


Once Upon a Mirror Verse

by rsfahrudeen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-02-27 18:01:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 170,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18744211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsfahrudeen/pseuds/rsfahrudeen
Summary: A prequel to Through the Looking Glass in the alternate universe where instead of Lucifer taking the Mark and becoming the Devil, Gabriel did.This is the story of how Lucifer aka Helel Ben Sahar and Sam met and worked together to free Michael from the cage.





	1. The Hunter's Fair

 1978

 

                 “I still don’t understand why I can’t come.” John complains as Mary packs her bag. “It’s just a few days. I can get a replacement at the garage.”

                 “It’s just… I haven’t really had time alone with my parents since the wedding.” She explains.

                 “Given your father stopped the wedding to object and threatened to disown you if you went through with it, that’s not entirely a bad thing.” He can’t help but feel a bit bitter at the memory.

                  “I’m surprised you’d want to go.” Mary turns around and just watches him lean against the door frame, arms crossed.

                 “I want to be there so I can take care of you. Isn’t that my job now?” he grins and walks over behind her, putting his arms around her.  “I wait on you hand and foot?” John gently rubs her belly.

                 “If you try in front of my father, he’ll just hate you even more. Besides I’d kind of like to break the news myself. If I tell him with you there…” She says apologetically and leans back into his arms. “Anyways I’ll be telling mom first and if you come that would mean leaving you and dad alone. I love you too much to ever do that to you.” She turns around to give him a kiss.

                 “Are you sure you don’t want to just write them a letter? Send a post card? Make a phone call?” John asks.

                 “You know they’re always traveling.” 

                 “Smoke signals?”

                 “I’ll be back in a few days.” She promises. “ There’s a rotisserie chicken and some ribs in the fridge. You just have to reheat them.  Canned corn and carrots in the cabinet with instant potatoes. I also left you an apple pie, cereal and some sandwiches.”

                 “I love it when you don’t cook for me.” He kisses her, pulling her closer.

                 “Mmm. I have to go.” Mary regretfully informs him between kisses.

                 “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to me, first?” his hands slide underneath her shirt.

                 “I knew I was forgetting something.”

 

                 Mary can’t help but feel a little guilty for lying to him. Everything she said was true, but she’d have stood her ground and made her father acknowledge him in normal circumstances. Unfortunately it’s not normal circumstances. It’s time for the Campbell’s Carnival, more privately known as the Hunter’s Fair, to come to Kansas.

                  Campbell’s Carnival is a new name this century. Before it was Cambell’s traveling circus. Campbell’s Carivan. Back in England it was simply one of many traveling merchants. nBut as long as there have been Campbells, there’s been the Hunter’s Fair. Holy weapons, bones of saints, rare ingredients for spells, special ammunition and enchanted, helpful items. Not to mention curse boxes available in any size shape and form. Gallons of Holy Water. Anything and everything a hunter could need could be bought or traded for once the sun went down.

                  In truth it’s the only place Mary can be sure to find her parents. No matter what.  Damuel and Deanna always went to the carnival when it was in the area. It was one of Mary’s favorite places when she was young. She got a free pass to all the rides and would often run around with her cousins. It was the only time she got to feel like a real child, almost normal. Even when she got older it was full of nothing, but happy and refreshing memories. Even her parents got to relax and have a few romantic moments. There was no place safer than Campbells Carnival. At least most of the time.

                    Every so often a fallen angel known as the Nightingale would stop by. There was no real way of knowing when. It would be somewhere between fifty and a hundred years since the last visit. She came two years in a row once, a very long time ago, but there were so few hunters left to torment, the second year, got bored and instead just impregnated every woman in the area with a goat headed, spider legged abomination. Only those who aborted early, survived. After that she waiting until the Campbells and cities were thriving and prosperous again.

                    The last time she came was 1928. It was a beautiful summer night and out of nowhere came a soft beautiful voice singing a song no one could understand. They couldn’t help but all stop to listen mesmerized by the love and tenderness invoked in their hearts. All except one dark skinned girl who left the cafe she was waitressing and disappeared before the song ended along with every child present. Small colored bubbles started to float in the sky above. When the parents noticed the children had dissappeared, the bubbles suddenly fell, splashing everyone below with paint.

                      Those who were splashed on the eyes became blind. On the throat mute. If some got on the ears, deaf. Hits on the head and only the head became amnesiac. On the arm or leg, the limb became either bruised down to the bone or arthritic. The back, scoliosis. Those that go hit on their torso anywhere near the digestive system got explosive diarrhea and ended up hospitalized for severe dehydration.  But every hunter who got struck, the paint turned into acid and burned away all the layers of skin underneath, before dissipating completely. IT never fully healed. Josiah Campbell, twenty at the time wears a mask to this day.

                       Some died of infection. Some died of the pain and some ended up killing themselves a few years later. But it was impossible to know if the last one wouldn’t have happened any ways. On a positive note, every single child that was taken that day, was found home, asleep in their beds, safe and sound and they never took ill again for the rest of their lives. Several of them became hunters. They always come to the Hunter’s Fair. But Usually when  It’s in Montana, where it happened.

                         The Carnival is bigger than it was since she last saw it. She hasn’t gone the last several years. They have a new roller coaster. Well, a second hand roller coaster. They probably won’t be buying anything new. At least not until the Nightingale comes calling again.                         Mary gets out of the impala and walks to the gate. It’s a Wednesday, so there aren’t many people this morning. A few small children are running to the kiddie rides, their parents in tow.

                        “Mary Campbell, as I live and breathe.” June Campbell smiles from the ticket booth. “I didn’t expect to see you here again.” They hug over the counter. “I heard you settled down. And you’re a housewife. Does that mean you learned to cook?”

                        “Who needs to cook when there’s a Piggly Wiggly nearby?” Mary smiles. “Are my parents here yet?”

                        “No, not yet. You…” June pauses and looks around. “You do know what year it is, right?”   
                        “I do, but it’s only a one in fifty chance that she’ll show up this year.” Mary points out. “Besides this is the only way I could get ahold of my parents.

                         “Samuel’s still mad, huh?” June wrinkles her nose, a sympathetic look on her face.

                         “You know Dad.” Mary shrugs. “Is the cafe in the same place?”

                         “No, it’s a cross from teh kiddie’s rides now. We got a soft serve ice cream machine last year. It’s a big hit. We still have the hand churned ice cream booth but soft serve is cheap and quick. You just be careful, alright?”

                         “I will,” Mary smiles. “You, too.”

                         “Wait, your bracelet.” June holds it out.

                         “Oh, right. Thanks.” Mary lets her put it on her wrist and heads into the carnival. Her parents always go to the diner first. If they’re not there yet, they will be soon. All, the children running around the fairground, playing games, showing off their prizes to their parents, makes her smile. She probably won’t be able to bring her children to Campbell’s Carnival but there are other safer ones. After all, she’s a civilian now.

                           There aren’t many people inside the diner.. Her parents aren’t here yet. There’s just a few people buying ice cream and a colored woman watching the children with a sad whistful look in her eyes. She’s drinking coffee. Something about her just tugs on Mary’s heartstrings.

                           “Mary Campbell, look at you all grown up.” ‘Uncle’ Kevin smiles and gives her a hug, as always. “I didn’t think I’d see you here again.” It makes her incredibly uncomfortable as always. But he’s family so she puts up with it for a few seconds, as always. “I heard you got married, settled down.”

                            “Yes, I did.” Mary pries herself out of his grasp. “Slow day today?”

                            “Yes and no. We did decent around lunch time, and it’ll pick up later. It’s fairly good for a wednesday. Though right now it’s mostly soft serve and that damn nigger and her coffee. She’s been here for hours, either looking out the window or staring at a book like she knows how to read. I want to throw her out, but Margie says we’re not allowed to do that anymore.”

                             “Is that all she’s gotten? Coffee?” Mary looks back again. “Well, it’s not like you need the seat right now. I’d like to order though. I’ll have the special and two of those lava cakes with ice cream as soon as you can get them all out.”

                              “Sure thing. It’s good to see you again Mary. Can I get you a beer while you’re waiting?”

                              “Better not. How about a sweet tea?”

                              “You got it.” he pinches her cheek and heads back to the grill. After a few minutes, the bell rings.

                              “Hey there beautiful. What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this.” Mary turns around to see a short blonde man with mischeivous eyes, leaning on the table where the colored girl is sitting. She just ignores him and looks out the window. “C’mon, honey, don’t be like that. Let’s get out this diner and go on some rides. Didn’t you want to go on the roller coaster? Ferris wheel? Tunnel of love?”

                      “They don’t have a tunnel of love.” The woman says dryly.

                      “She spoke to me.” Theman puts a hand on his heart. He’s actually being kind of cute about this, annoying but not hostile in the least. But the woman’s clearly not interested. “C’ mon, we’ll make a day of it. Play the games, ride the rides. I’ll win you a giant stuffed bear.”

                       “No, thank you.” The woman looks more and more annoyed. “Please just leave me alone.”

                       “Never.”

                       “Finally.” Mary picks up the plates when Kevin puts them down in front of her. “Diane, your foods ready.” She places it down in front of her and goes back for the lava cakes. “Excuse me.” She shoves the man aside as she takes the seat opposite the woman. “If you don’t mind, we’re kind of busy today. Our boyfriends will be arriving shortly.” Strangely enough the man just grins and looks back at the colored girl.

                        “Oh, you have a boyfreind. You should have just said so.” he looks like he’s going to laugh, but that’s better than anger. Mary really doesn’t feel like having to kick anyone’s ass today.  “Have fun with your boyfriend. I’ll just have to go find myself someone else to play with.” The colored woman looks as if she’s completely done with the world. Especially when the man just grabs her lava cake and walks out with it. Mary tried to grab it back, but the woman just told hold of her wrist and shakes her head.

                         “What an asshole.” Mary comments. “I’m sorry. My name’s Mary.”

                        “I know. That was very nice of you, but you really didn’t need to intervene.” The woman replies. 

                         “Well, we girls have to stick together, right? Have you had the meatloaf here? It’s the best.” she nudges the plate closer.

                         “I’m not hungry, but thank you for the offer.” Is the curt but polite reply.

                         “I’m not looking down on you. I’ve had hard times myself. I’ve been low.. But you’ve got to take care of yourself and if you can’t at the moment, there’s no shame in letting other’s help.” Mary reaches across and takes her hand. “Whatever happened things will get better.” The woman looks down sadly. She’s probably religious. Alot of them are. “You have people who love you I’m sure. And don’t forget, God loves you no matter what and I’m sure his angels are looking down on you, ready to help you on your way.” The woman gives a bitter yet amused smile at this.

                         “You don’t even believe that yourself.”

                         “Well, I’d like to, at least.”

                         “Mary, blessed among women, favored of God, thank you for your kindness.” She turns Mary’s hand over and with her other hand reaches into her pocket and places something into Mary’s hand. “For your protection.” The woman stands up and walks out of the diner. When she opens her hand, she sees an old amulet written in latin with a few roman numerals around the edges. It a bit worn but she can recognize the image of Saint Michael.

                           Why would this work? In apocrypha Gabrielle the devil, was tricked and defeated by the archangel Michael, locking him away for all of eternity. What kind of protection would an amulet like this provide? Maybe against the Fallen. Mary turns it over and on the back is the image of Saint Lucifer, patron saint of the fallen. A dual amulet like this is rare, especially one so old. Even if it’s a fake, it would still often some protection. But still to have both of them on opposite sides. The archangel dedicated to smiting the wicked and the archangel dedicated to bringing the wicked back into the light. It’s unusual.

                              Mary takes the place back from across the table since the woman didn’t want it and eats it herself. She can see her uncle shaking his head at her, looking disappointed. She almost feels it serves him right when the next time he makes a cone, the handle breaks off the soft serve machine letting the whole contents spill out onto the floor.

                              “Mary!” Her mother exclaims from the door just as Mary finishes her meal. “What are you doing here? Is everything alright? Is John alright?”

                              “John’s fine. He’s actually decided to partner up with Ralph and buy the garage. He’s working extra hours, but he should make enough to qualify for the loan within the next year. I’m still waitressing, but I’m going to have to stop in a few months. I’ve been picking up as many extra shifts as I can lately, too. So I have enough saved.” Mary gets up and hugs her mom.

                              “Why do you have to stop? You’d think you’d keep working.” Her father asks a little suspiciously.

                              “Well,” Mary smiles, giving up on the idea of telling her mother first. “Someone will have to stay home with the baby.”

                              “Oh Mary!” Her mother steps back and puts a hand on Mary’s swelling stomach. “That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to be a grandma.”

                              “Have you lost your mind!” Her father grabs her by the arm and starts to pull her out of the diner. “You come here this year, of all years, while pregnant?” Mary takes her arm back when they’re outside.

                              “If it weren’t the only way to get to talk to you, I wouldn’t have.” She snaps. “I thought you should know that you’re about to become grandparents.”

                              “You thought wrong.”

                              “Samuel.” Mary’s mother puts a hand on his shoulder.

                              “No, Deanna. When she chose that man and that life she abandoned everything she ever was before. And that includes us. You are not a part of this life Mary, and you are no longer a part of this family.” He storms off.

                              “Mary.” Deanna puts a hand to her daughter’s face. “This life and this family would only put you and your husband and your family in danger. If you love them you have to let all this go. Including us. We love you, we’ll always love you, but we can’t have contact with you anymore.” She kisses her daughter’s cheek and walks away after her husband. Mary just stares at them. As soon as they’re out of sight, she heads to the Hall of Horrors. it’s dark in there so no one can see her tears.  

                              She shouldn’t be surprised, she knew this would be a long shot. She just couldn’t help but hope that maybe this would make a difference. Maybe she’d get a phone call at least letting her know they were still alive. And she could tell them a little about her children. How they were doing in school. As only children, she and John agreed they’d have at least two children so the kids would have someone to play with. So they’ll never feel lonely. They’ll be normal happy healthy children. They’ll be safe. They’ll get married and have children. They won’t ever have to know what lies in the dark.

                                 The usual dime store horrors fill glass cases. Shrunken heads, taxidermy mermaids, scary pictures, faux cursed objects based off of real ones. And last but not least, pictures of the 1928 massacre. News clippings, photographs, police reports are posted all over the wall. It feels in poor tastes, but really it’s as close to a memorial as the dead hunters can ever truly have. A hunter’s life can be very short. Even with the most accomplished hunters you never know when the next job will turn out to be the nightingale tormenting a poor soul for whatever reason. If you interfere you’re lucky if you can get out alive. Though often enough you’re out of the hunting game even if you do.

                                 After a few minutes of respectful silence, Mary goes to leave. But there’s something bothering her. Something about the photographs is tugging at her. Something… there it is, in the corner of one of the photographs of the carnival. The man from earlier is sitting on a bench leaning towards the colored woman from the diner who’s sitting on as she reads her book. He’s wearing suspenders and a newsie cap, sleeves all rolled up, but he has that same grin. The woman is just ignoring him again. She’s in conservative period clothing, with her hair up tightly in a bun, but it’s her. Could it be possible? Could she be the nightingale? Or just some of her fallen angels there to take in the show. Some of the fallen have limits to what they’ll do. Maybe this one has a soft spot for children. Maybe she knew Mary was pregnant and wanted to help her or more accurately the child in her womb. Besides the nightingale would never be able to even touch an amulet like that. Of course, the amulet would sear itself into the flesh of a fallen angel. Maybe… maybe the colored woman isn’t fallen after all. Maybe she’s just an angel.

                                  It doesn’t matter. They were there that day. Now they’re here today. It can’t be a coincidence. And if the nightingale is here or on her way, then everyone is in serious danger.


	2. The Day of the Nightingale

1978

 

          “Jesus Christ! What is it?” The trailer door swings open.

          “I’m sorry to wake you, George, but it’s an emergency.” Mary holds up the picture she took down from the display, and points to the bench. “These people are here today. This is from the 1928 incident. I just saw them in the diner. Uncle Kevin saw them, too. We need to get everybody out of here. Make up a reason.”

          “You think one of them is the Nightingale.”

          “That or she’s on her way. I don’t believe this is a coincidence they were there then and now they’re here.”

          “You’re right. But we have to do it carefully and not make it look suspicious.” George Campbell considers.

          “What about an electrical failure?” They hear from inside. “Have the roller coaster and Ferris wheel take a break and then shut off the electricity.” Jennifer steps out as she ties back her hair and brushes past her husband. “Mary, help me pass out the sacred bullets and St Michael amulets, just in case they don’t have theirs. “ She hands her a large duffel bag. “And  bottles of holy water.”

            “Yes, Ma’am. Right away.” Mary takes it and heads back to the booths, Jennifer following closely behind veering off to the other side of the fairway. The bottles turn out to be spray bottles. It’s practical but the thought of spritzing the Fallen like you would a cat on the kitchen table is a kind of funny. She doesn’t even have to say anything, just hand them paper lunch bag and a spray bottle and move on.

            “Don’t forget to keep one for yourself.” the next to last man puts a hand on her wrist as she turns to go.

            “Right.” Mary goes behind the booth and reloads her gun. Sacred bullets won’t kill one of the Fallen but it will hurt them. Whether that holds true for the nightingale herself, the most powerful of all fallen, the Devil’s right hand, it’s hard to say. Chances are every hunter here will die today, like most days the Nightingale comes to play.

             “You should leave.” The colored woman is in front of her when she looks up. Mary lifts her gun to fire only for the woman to grab her wrist with her left hand and strike her flat on the chest with the palm of the other hand. “If you leave now, she’ll never be able to find you or your son as long as you both live.”

               “Who are you?” Mary demands. “What are you?” The woman doesn’t respond. “Am I supposed to trust you?”

               “No. I suppose not. After all the nightingale and I are married and I will love and protect her for as long as I live. What is there for a hunter to trust in that? But if you care at all for that child in your womb, you will leave here and never return.”

                “How could you love a fallen angel? Why protect her. I saw you looking at the children. I can’t believe you want them to come to harm.

                “They won’t”

                “I don’t just mean physically. Do you know how much those children suffered the last time? Seeing what had happened to their parents. And the lives they had during the depression made worse because of the crippling of their parents. Do you really think no harm was done to those children? What about the children and families those dead hunters might have saved if they hadn’t been killed that night? You know what she is. You know what she does. And you’ll protect her?”

                  “You don’t understand. She is all that stands between humanity and complete and utter destruction.  You are involved in things far greater than your individual life and yet your life matters a great deal. Do me a favor, though. Don’t have any more than this one.” The angel lets go of Mary’s wrist. “Go home.”

                   With a snap of the fingers Mary finds herself back in her car in the parking lot. The lights shut off in the carnival and people start to leave. She should go. Shouldn’t she? It’s not just her life she has to think about right now, is it? She should leave. Go home to John, have their baby and many more. But to leave everybody behind to be slaughtered. What can she even do against the Nightingale? But how could she even live with herself if she just left like that. If she left her parents. There’s the sound of gunshots, and the sky turns black with dark clouds.

                   “Goddamn it!” She punches the wheel and grabs the bible from the glove compartment before heading back to the carnival. As soon as she nears the entrance, she sees a flaming circle around the colored woman who’s actually bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds. But she’s not dead, which is more than enough to indicate she isn’t human. Everyone around her is frozen in place.

                    “Gabrielle, I’ll be fine.” The woman looks towards the short man from before who’s walking around the frozen hunters. There’s a fierce, dark look in his eyes.

                     “I know you will be.” He walks over to a hunter with his gun still drawn and snaps his fingers. The man bursts into flame melting to the ground in a puddle of fat and ash.

                     “You promised me!” She cries out from the circle.

                     “I did, Yes. You’ll forgive me. Besides they’re the ones who brought a gun to a prank war. If you think I’ll forgive them from hurting you..”

                     “Just let me out of here and take me home.” She says soothingly. “ It’ll be alright. We’ll come back later. Maybe when we can be seen together as a couple without causing trouble.”

                     “Sure, just hold on a minute.” He walks over to another hunter and goes to snap his fingers again, but Mary’s bullet goes straight through his thumb. “Mother Fucker!” He grabs his hand. “Who the hell…” He dodges the next bullet and laughs a threatening laugh.  Mary’s gun is ripped from her hands. “I don’t actually need to snap. It’s just… you know.. Showmanship. That's all.” He gives a nonchalant shrug. “ Plus you all make such funny faces when you see it coming. Granted sometimes you make even funnier ones when you don’t.   
A sudden blinding downpour douses the flame around the colored woman and she and the man disappear. Everyone is freed from their paralysis, but laughter fills the sky. “I will have such fun tonight!”

                   ‘And I think I’ll start with you.” Mary hears echoing in her head as the rain ends in one large sheet of water splashing over them, knocking everyone down.

                  “Mary!” Her parents run over to her. Her father, still holding his gun embraces her tightly.     

                  “Oh, Mary, what have you done? You should have left. Why didn’t you leave?” He refuses to let go.

                   “It just...wasn’t in me. Oh, Dad, you shot the wrong one.” Mary closes her eyes. “You have to get out of here. All of you.”

                   “There’s an old church nearby.”One of their cousins comes over. “Grab everything you have and we’ll hole up there. Kevin, Paul, Susanna, go help Allen with his stock.”

                   “I know which one they’re talking about. It’s this way.” Samuel finally lets go of his daughter and leads them across the fields to what looks like a church or maybe even a small school. When they leave the carnival, the wind begins to blow, gently at first but the closer they get to the building the harder it blows. It takes five people to force the door open so the others can enter and just as many to get it shut again once everyone’s inside and accounted for. That’s when they hear the sirens. Tornado warnings blare from the town. It’s not exactly uncommon, though it’s a little out of season. But not a single hunter things it’s going to be a natural one.

                    “All children and one parent for each family, go in the tornado cellar.” Mark shouts. “That means if there’s no mother, then father’s you get your ass down there no matter what you think you can do.”

                    “I’m not a child!” Mary hears a teenage boy protest angrily. “I’ll be eighteen in a month!”

                    “It’ll only be putting them in danger.” Mary says quickly.

                    “This is not the time for stubbornness. This is the time for being a mother and putting your child first above all things.” Her mother takes hold of her face, to keep her daughter looking at her. “Now GO to the cellar.”

                     “Yes, Mom.” Mary takes a breath and after a breif pause to put away the gun her father hands her, follows the others to the storm cellar door.  As soon as she steps through the door, she finds herself in an old empty barn probably the one near to the old church. The wind is howling through the cracks and the lights flicker off and on.

                     “I told you I was going to start with you.” She hears somewhere behind her. “What to do… what to do.”                   

                     “But… I was on holy ground.” Mary feels a bit bewildered as she slowly turns around.

                     “Yeah, funny story that, actually. After the church sold the land and house to the town so they could build another one, the preacher found out they were going to be teaching about evolution so he came back at night and deconsecrated the ground.  That kind of vicious pettiness was just… hillarious.” The man chuckles a little. “So now all your hunter friends are holed up in an old schoolhouse they think I can’t come into even though I just did. You know, I’ve been looking forwards to this for years. I’d promised Raphi not to kill any hunters this time, and I wasn’t going to. Oh sure a few people who pissed me off were probably going to die fairly gruesome deaths. But then they had to go and actually hurt my darling husband. Well, wife I guess, for the moment.”

                     “Is she okay?” Mary asks warily. So this is the nightingale. Not what she expected.

                     “He’ll be fine. It was his own fault, really. None of those had to hit him. He was either showing off or trying to keep me occupied for some reason. Now that I’ve seen you, though. I know why. I’ll let him know you asked about him.” A blast of wind slams Mary back against the wall. She falls down on a few boxes stacked in the corner, they’re all hard with many corners and a few fall over with her, dumping out their books.

                 “You know…” The Nightingale taps his chin, a pensive look on his face as he walks back and forth a little. “You’re pretty cute. Kind of Badass, which is always a little sexy. What do you say we put aside our differences and have a little fun. I can take you back to my place, the three of us could explore the pleasures of the flesh for a while. You’ll pick up a lot of nice moves over a few hundred years. When you go home to hubby, you’ll have some extra nice things to add to the marital bed.” He winks at her.

                 “Sorry pure evil isn’t exactly my type.” Mary picks herself up off the ground. “Murdering members of my family is kind of a turn off, too.”

                 “What if I didn’t?” The nightingale lays down on a satin lounge he conjures up and takes a piece of candy from the silver bowl set before him on a glass table.

                 “What do you mean?”Mary eyes him warily.

                 “What if I let them live in exchange for you becoming my willing play thing?” The man gives a surprisingly adorable smile. Mary just wants to punch it off his face. “I’m really not so bad once you get to know me.”

                  “Am I supposed to trust you?” Mary slowly reaches back for the gun with the sacred bullets her father gave her. Maybe she can’t kill the Nightingale but she can hurt her, Maybe enough to let everyone survive.

                   “Well, even if you don’t, every moment you spend with me is a moment I’m not torturing and murdering your family, isn’t it?” He reasonably points out.  Mary responds by emptying her gun into his skull and groin. He screams and writhes falling off the lounge onto the floor where he’s still. For several seconds, there’s nothing but silence. Mary takes a breath and goes to run back to the church so she can get some holy oil and trap the wounded angel, only to find herself face to face with him. The Nightingale kisses her nose.

                   “Surprised?”

                   “ Yes, I had no idea you were this short.” Mary responds flatly.

                   “Ooo, sassy girl. Maybe I’ll just take you with me anyways.” The nightingale punches her in the diaphragm so hard she flies back a few feet, gasping for breath. “Or, you could give me your soul. I’d even let you keep the baby for that price.”

                    “What?” she manages, managing to get back to her feet

                    “You give me your soul, you keep the baby, you go home, and everybody lives happy and safe from me, until you die. Of course i won’t be giving you an early death or anything, I have plenty of other things to play with. So, how about it?” He takes her by the chin as she’s still on her knees. “Think about it while I have a snack, maybe play a little. Talk to your parents about it. Don’t take too long though. I might get bored, and I get kind of cranky when I’m bored. Well, at least that’s what Raphi says.” The naughty little smile on the mans face sends chills up her spine.  When he snaps his fingers this time, Deanna and Samuel appear in the barn beside her. The nightingale disappears.

                      “Mom, Dad.”

                       “Talk some sense into your girl.” The Nightingale’s voice interrupts. “I’ve made her an excellent offer.”

                        “Mary, what’s going on?” Her mother looks around.

                        “What did he mean an offer?”Samuel takes out his gun.

                        “He’ll spare everyone’ lives if I either become his plaything for a while or give him my soul. If I give him my soul he’ll let me keep the baby. I”m assuming that means under any other circumstances he won’t.  I shouldn’t be hesitating. I know I shouldn’t, but…”

                         “You are not giving your soul to some fallen angel, Mary and that’s final.” Samuel orders.

                         “That’s not just a Fallen angel, Dad.” Mary informs him. “That’s the Nightingale.”

                         “I thought the Nightingale was supposed to be a woman.” Her father frowns.

                         “I’m supposed to be a lot of things.” The nightingale comments.

                          “Well, I see this in not a private conversation.” Samuel looks around the barn for the origin of the voice. “I take it that church is no longer holy ground for some reason?”

                           “It’s not.” Mary sighs.

                           “Mary.” Deanna says quietly. “You can have other children.”

                           “Mom…”

                           “ I know.” Deanna pits a hand on her daughter’s cheek.  “I hate saying this, but you can’t give away your soul. Not for any reason. What if you child finds out what you did for them. What if your soul is held over their heads and used to manipulate or use them. I don’t want… You can’t sell your soul. If you have any other choice… Any other way to save yourself.”

                           “And you think being the Nightingale’s play thing would save her?” Samuel turns to his wife, shocked.

                           “I don’t want my daughter to die Sam. And I certainly don’t want her in hell if she does. Where there’s life there’s hope.” Deanna glares at him.

                           “Death is better than either choice!”

                           “SHE WOULDN’T EVEN BE HERE IF YOU’D HAVE LET ME PICK UP THE DAMN PHONE!” Deanna screams at her husband. “I could have died knowing my child and grandchild were happy and safe, but no you and your STUBBORN PRIDE has taken that away from me!”

                           “I was just trying to prote..” Samuel reaches out to her only to get slapped in the face.

                           “If it makes you feel better, I’m letting her live no matter what. And most of you hunters too. I’d have let you all go, but Hubby’s not feeling too well thanks to those dozens of bullets you filled him with. So I’m going to be nice, kind of, like he wanted me to be. “The Nightingale reappears, standing on a step stool in order to lean his elbow on Samuel’s shoulder.  “Your little girl with be fine. It’s nice to see a father who actually cares about his daughter. Not so great to see yet another daddy who tosses his little girl aside just because she didn’t do what he wanted, though. Tell me, Mary’s dad. What would you do if some human creatures seriously hurt your wife? Would you let them just.. Get away? No you’d go beat em up at least. Probably put them in the hospital. You look the type. But see, I’m not as nice as you. And alot more creative.”

                            “Mary.” Samuel says quietly as he seems unable to move even the slightest. “Don’t ever trust the Fallen. Fight him until your last breath and don’t worry about any of us. As long as we have our souls, we’ll be fine.”

                            “Dad.” Mary can’t believe what she’s hearing.

                            “We’re hunters, munchkin, We’re all prepared to die.”

                          “That’s true, isn’t it?” The Nightingale makes a face. “How boring. Oh, I know.” He takes Samuel’s gun and empties it into Deanna’s torso. Samuel finds he can move again as he breaks away to catch his wife as she falls. “Now, this is fair, isn’t it? You shoot my wife, I shoot yours. Even Steven.”

                          “Mom!” Mary rushes to her side as well. “You said you wouldn’t kill anyone!”

                          “Yeah in exchange for either your soul or your body for a while. And you haven’t exactly given me an answer.” He points out giving her the wink and the gun as he hops down off the stool.

                         “Do you think hurting or killing my parents will make me give into you?”

                         “Nah, not really. I don’t care either way honestly. I”m not a patient angel, though. Or a forgiving one. Honestly, I might just kill your dad, too. You know, after his wife slowly dies in his arms. Or would making him live without her be more painful?”

                          “You BASTARD!’ Mary leaps to her feet, punching the fallen angel in the face. “I will never give any part of myself to you. Only an idiot would trust you! Now fix her or I swear to God I WILL KILL YOU!” She kicks him in the side. He just starts laughing and grabs her leg, using it to slam down her against the floor. Samuel lunges at him as well but is stopped by the bars of a cage that wasn’t there before.”

                           “Alright. Time for some real fun!” The look in his eyes when he stomps on Mary’s womb is the stuff of nightmares. “What the hell…” he frowns and looks at her as she rolls away from him and struggles to her feet. “Alright. The boring way, then.” He rolls his eyes at the situation and snaps his fingers. He frowns and snaps them again. “AAAAAAHH! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!” He screams, his wings manifesting behind his shadows with a great shining light around them. “Is it YOU?! Are you finally intervening to save a child? Not even a child, a fetus! YOU SHOULD HAVE SAVED YOUR OWN CHILD YOU RAT BASTARD!” He screams at the heavens.

                             The first bullet from her reloaded gun strikes the fallen angel in the shoulder. The second passes through where the heart would have been when he disappears. The third grazes his skull when he appears before Mary, grabbing and crushing the gun in her hand.

                               “Those bullets are annoying! YOU are annoying! That child in your wombs refusal to DIE is even MORE ANNOYING!” He kicks her back over to the corner of fallen books, old encyclopedias, school books, and of course old worn Bibles. “I’ll just have to carve it out of your womb!” A blade with three edge surfaces drops into his hand. As he goes to impale her with it, Mary Throws an open Bible at his face. When He curses, Mary grabs another one and slams it into his hand knocking the blade from it.

                                As fast as she can, she lunges after the blade and grabs it seconds before the Nightingale can react. She slashing him across the body hip to shoulder and again across his torso. A bright bluish almost blinding light shines out from the wound like escaping gas. When she’s up and can aim for the heart, a burst of energy knocks her back and a blinding light fills the room, along with a piercing shriek that makes Mary feel like here skull is about to split in two. Right before Mary blacks out, the wind dies down and light starts to shine through the windows.

 

                                “You should have just gone home.” Mary hears as a soft warmth moves through her body. “Your son will be alright.” Mary opens her eyes to see the colored woman’s hand withdrawing from her forehead.   She reaches up and grabs the woman’s wrist.

                                 “You don’t have to stay with him….” She sits up, her other hand keeping a tight hold on the blade that still rests beside her.

                                 “I said she couldn’t find you and she still can’t once you’re out of her line of sight. You can go home and take care of your son and you’ll be safe. She won’t be going anywhere for a while. I’d take the time to learn how to use this.” The woman places her hand over Mary’s keeping the blade firmly on the ground.

                                 “Can… can you save my mom?” Mary asks quietly not sure what to hope for.

                                 “No. Her soul’s in heaven. I’m sorry. I know you’ll never forgive her for this, but please, remember what I said about her. Don’t try to kill her again.” The woman pleads and disappears.

                                


	3. The Early Years

1987

 

           “That’s grandma’s grave, right mommy?” Little Sammy points to Deanna’s gravestone. “It had D E A N like Dean, right?”

           “Yes.” 

           “She died in a tornado.” Dean informs him, holding the flowers for his mother.

           “Oh right. I forgot.”Sammy puts his fingers in his mouth.

           “Don’t be a baby, Sam. Only babies suck on their fingers.” Dean says scornfully.

           “If I recall you sucked your thumb until you were five, Dean Bean.” Mary gently raps his head.

           “Yeah, Dean Bean.” Sammy sticks his tongue out.

           “That’s Grandpa’s grave,” Dean just ignores him and points out. “He lived with us alot for a while. But he had a heart attack and died in his sleep before you came.”

           “Mommy, what was Grandpa like?”

           “He was bald.” Dean replies. “And he and Dad yelled at each other a lot and he bought the garage for us.”

            “Shut up! I was asking Mommy!” Sammy pushes him and moves close to Mary’s leg.

            “Be nice.” She picks him up and lets him rest his head on her shoulder. “I know you’re feeling sleepy Sam but that’s no reason to be mean.”

            “I’m not mean, Dean was mean. I’m never mean.” he pouts.

            “Hush,” She kisses his forehead. “Dean would you like to give them their flowers?”

            “Yes mommy. Mom.” Dean corrects himself and puts down a bunch of flowers at each grave with one left over. Mary gives a whistful smile thinking of how angry her father would be at dying like that. Sitting down in a chair taking a nap with no resistance. Hopefully they’re together in heaven again. “Can we see Dad now?” Dean turns around, standing his very straightest.

             “Of course.” Mary carries the sleepy Sam over to John’s grave, letting Dean lead the way, through the grave yard.

             “ This is Dad’s grave, Sammy.” Dean points out for his little brother. “He was killed by a burglar. And Mom? What’s that?” He points to the new gravestone. “Why does it have your name? You’re not dead.” His voice gets a little unsure though.

              “No, it… he wasn’t supposed to put it up yet.” Mary wrinkles her nose. “I bought the grave and tombstone so no one else would have to if I died. That’s all. Just in case. I’m not sick or anything though, so don’t worry.”

               “Mom, that’s kind of creepy.” Dean flatly informs her.

               “Yeah, mommy. Creepy.” Sammy scowls, though he puts his arms around he neck and snuggles closer. 

               “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Mary hugs him a little tighter.

               “You’re not going to die, right mommy?” Sammy asks her in a very small, very frightened voice.

              “No. I’m never going to die. ” She lies, reassuring him.

              “Promise?”

              “Promise.” Mary leans her head against his for a moment. “Do you two want to say a little longer or do you want to go home and prepare for trick or treating?”

                 “Trick or Treating!” Dean and Sammy shout. Her little Sam-a-lam does so right into her ear, of course.

                 “Mommy, do I have to be a bunny?” the four year old asks again.

                 “Yeah. Sorry. It was the only one left in your size.”

                 “I wanted to be something scary,” Sam pouts. 

                 “It’s okay, Sammy. I’ll help you with your costume.” Dean reassures him.

 

1992

                 “That’s the year Dean helped his little brother with his costume by taking some scissors, some dirt and my special occasion lipstick and making my cute little bunny into roadkill.” Mary shows the girl the album.

                  “Is that Dean? What is he a preist?” Becky points to the picture of the two brothers smiling wide together.

                   “He went as an exorcist.” Mary smiles. “I have to show you the year he went as Donny from New Kids. Sam-a-lam was Marky Mark.”

                    “Oh my god, Mom, No!” Sam looks up from his books.

                    “MOM!” Dean shouts from upstairs. “What are you doing?” he rushes down, buttoning his dress shirt collar. He turns red as he sees his date sitting next to his mother, looking at the photo album. “Um, hi, Becky.”

                    “Sorry to come early. My mom had an emergency and had to drop me off on the way.” She apologizes.

                     “No, that’s okay.” he rubs the back of his neck. “Is everything okay?”

                     “Yeah, just Grandma being grandma.” She shrugs, rolling her eyes.

                     “Mom?” Dean waves her aside.

                     “Excuse me.” Mary smiles at the girl and gets up to go over to her handsome little thirteen year old son. “Yes, Dean?”

                     “Did you bring home the spare car from the garage like I asked you to?”

                     “No, Dean. I didn’t not bring home the spare car. My car works just fine.” She crosses her arms.

                     “But mom… it’s so embarrassing.” he whispers. “It’s old. Not even worth something old. It’s just… old old…” he protests. “I don’t want my date to have to be dropped off and picked up in that thing.”

                      “That’s fine. You can just pay for a cab.”

                      “Mom…”

                      “Or do you have enough for a limo?”

                      “Mom!”

                      “Listen Dean Bean. I love that car. You father loved that car. You were conceived in that car.”

                      “MOM!”

                      “I am never getting rid of this car. So if you want to be taken on dates and parties and gatherings, you’re going to have to accept that you’ll be driven there in an 1967 Impala.  So deal with it.”

                      “Yes mom.” Dean backs down.

                      “Here, give me your tie.” She takes it from his hand and fastens it loosely around his neck.

                       “Thanks.” he mumbles. “Oh, I made the wrestling team and the coach gave me a diet plan he wants me to follow. And it has to be homemade not just bought from Piggly Wiggly. That stuff has way too much fat and sodium.”

                        “Is your coach going to come and cook them? Or work for free at the garage so I can come home hours early to attempt to cook for you?”

                        “Mom...”

                        “Then either eat what I bring home or learn to cook.” She bops her ungrateful son’s nose. “Alright, let’s get you two to that movie. I’ll be back in a little bit, Sam-a-lam.” She goes to pat her youngest on the head as she goes to grab her keys. He just makes a face at the nickname.

                         “Later mom.” he says before going back to reading.

                         “Salts in the pantry, silvers in the china cabinet, and the guns in the safe, you know the combination.”

                         “Yes, mom, I know.” Sam gives a frustrated sigh.

                         “Family joke.” Dean explains to his date who looks a bit confused.

                         It’s a simple drive to the movies. Dean of course, apologizes to his date for the Abba steering wheel cover and rainbow tie-dyed leopard print seat covers, as well as the disco hits punctuated by classic rock mix tapes that Mary insists on playing.

                          “My car, My music.” Is the answer when Dean asks her to just turn on the radio instead. Fortunately it’s not a long drive. “I’ll be back at ten. Have fun. But not too much fun.” Mary gives them the wink and the gun. Dean just ignores her.

                          “Bye, Mrs. Winchester.” His sweet little date waves as Mary drives off.

                          She considers going back to the garage to pick up some paperwork to work on at home, but she really has to have a talk with Sam when she gets home. His grades are fine, but his teachers have been getting at her about him not doing his homework. He gets B’s anyways because he aces all the tests. But school is important and if he and Dean could earn some merit scholarships that’d be great. Not that College will be an issue any time soon. She has at least four years for Dean, Eight for Sam. But things are getting more expensive. Maybe she should stay home in the summer, work more at the garage. Sign the boys up for sports. Stay in Lawrence.

                           “Sa-am… Sammy… Sam-a-lam-a-ding-dong.” She calls out when she enters the house. The lights are on in the dining room but he’s not there. It’s too early for him to be in bed, but she walks up the stairs and checks anyways. Nope. No Sam. And his computer’s off. “Sam?” he’s not in the attic or the basement. And his bike is gone.

                           Mary signs and goes to the phone. He’s not at the library. He’s not at his freinds. He’s not at the VFW. He’s not at the garage. That leaves one place he could be. Unless he’s gotten himself a girlfreind. But that’s not likely yet. He’s still rolling his eyes at Dean talking to girls on the phone.  Sure enough when she drives to the cemetery and walks to John’s grave there he is sitting on the ground in front of it, talking quietly.

                             “Sorry to interrupt, but you’re about to be grounded for a thousand years.” Mary raps him on the head. Sam doesn’t say anything. “Look at the sky, kid.” She gently moves his head back so he looks up to see the sun almost set.

                             “Oh,” he says blankly.

                             “You’d never get home in time.”

                             “Okay.”

                             “And you didn’t leave a note.”

                             “.... I forgot.” He lies.

                             “ Don’t lie to me, Sam.” Mary lowers her voice.

                             “I thought I’d be home before you. That you’d be going to the garage and get caught up in on work and come back when I was already asleep. You know, like you usually do.” Sam doesn’t look at her.

                             “I said I was coming right back, didn’t I?”

                             “You always say you’re coming right back.” Sam says flatly.

                             “I have to work, Sam. I have to pay the bills. I’m sorry if it takes me away for too long, but I have to take care of you and your brother and keep you fed, clothes, housed, schooled, healthy. Living in the same house, the same schools with the same people in one place, you know, living a normal life.” She strokes his hair a little. “I know you already know this, Sam.”

                              “Maybe you wouldn’t have to work so hard during the school year if you didn’t go hunting so much in the summer.” Is Sam’s cool reply.

                              “Sam…” She sighs.

                              “I like Harvelle’s. There are a lot of interesting people. I’ve learned a lot. Like I learned how Grandma really died. And how you got that blade on your back and why you never take it off.”

                              “You did?” Mary sits down on her grave so that she can face him again.

                              “Yes.”

                              “Does your brother know?”

                              “No, I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it and he’s usually off playing outside.”

                              “Then you have to know why I’m still hunting. Right?” She brushes her little Sam-a-lam’s hair out of his eyes. “I wanted to stop. I thought that I could be a normal woman, with a normal life with a normal family, that I could just walk away from it, but I can’t. It’s just not in me to abandon everything and everyone. I’m doing everything I can to put you and your brother first in my life, but hunting is always going to be a part of it.”

                               “What if you go on a hunt and don’t come back?” Sam looks up at her with those big hazel eyes that are so hard to resist.

                               “Then you’ll go live with the Harvelle’s at the Roadhouse and go to school there and Ralph will buy out your shares of the garage and you two will have that money to go to college with.” She reassures him. 

                               “What you’re not going to tell me you’ll always come back?” Sam gives a bitter grin.

                               “You’re too old to fall for that.” Mary sighs. “Everytime I go out on a hunt, I know I could die. But I could die doing anything. I could die in the garage, in my car, in my sleep, or in a burglary, like your father. I know it’s risky but I’m good at it. And there are things only I can do. Each hunt I go one leaves one less monster in the world and saves more lives than I’ll ever know.”

                                “I know.”

                                “When your father died, I realized there was no such thing as a truly safe place. That’s why I’ve been teaching you and your brother to take care of yourselves and your loved ones. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, knowing what’s out there. But keeping you ignorant isn’t going to keep you safe. It’s just keeping you unprepared.” 

                                 “Did you tell Dad about monsters and hunters and Fallen angels?”

                                 “No. He’d have thought I was crazy. We didn’t really talk much about our parents or how we grew up or things like that. Maybe we should have.” Mary considers.  It was a relief to both of them she thinks. They got to pretend they were a happy, normal couple. That she wasn’t born and bred a hunter into a family of hunters and he didn’t go to war. “I loved him though, if I had to tell him, I would have.”

                                 “How can you love somebody if you don’t even know who they are?” Sam looks back at his father’s headstone.

                                 “I knew who he was. He was brave. He was strong. He was stubborn. He knew what it meant to fight for your life. He was good, hardworking, responsible. And he could be so gentle. Like when he was holding you right after you were born, tenderly stroking your hair. Unlike Dean you were born with a full set of hair. You looked just like your daddy, too.”

                                 “I do?”

                                 “More than your brother. He looks more like me.”

                                 “Yeah.” Sam can’t deny it.

                                 “Come on, Sam. Time to go home and have a little talk about your homework.” Mary stands up and stretches.

                                 “Yes, mom,” Sam gets up and follows her to the car, going in the front seat as she folds down the back to fit the bike in the trunk.

                                 “We can stop at the drive through on the way home.” Mary promises. “But you’re losing your bike for a month.”  

                                 “That’s fine.” He pretends it doesn’t bother him, but that’s alright. “Could… could you maybe take off the seat covers when you take me to school?”

                                 “Nope.” 


	4. College Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean head off to college  
> Sam and Mary get time alone together

1997

 

       “Sure that’s everything?” Mary asks, putting the last box into the old crown vic.

       “Yes, mom, I’m sure.” Dean kisses her cheek.

       “Don’t push yourself too hard. And don’t go on any hunts if you find or hear about something spooky. Just call me or Uncle Bill. You keep your record clean. Got it?” Mary reminds him.

        “I know, mom.” Dean rolls his eyes a little, “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid.”

        “And try not to join any ancient societies. No frats, no exclusive social clubs. No excursions into haunted houses or haunted anything. If you so much as have a suspicion, make a phone call.”

         “Mom, I know.”

         “If things get weird or the least bit humorous in a supernatural way… if you hear someone laughing and you’ll know it when you hear it, you get the hell out of there as fast as you can and call me.” Mary puts her hands on Dean’s cheeks. “No if ands or buts. Do you understand me?”

          “I understand.” Dean swears and hugs her tightly. Unfortunately when he’s ready to let go, she doesn’t seem to be.” Mom, I’m going to be late to orientation.”

          “Right.” Mary takes a breath, and lets go of her eldest son. “Sammy, want to say goodbye to your brother?”

          “Bye, Dean.” San doesn’t look up from his game boy, He just leans against the house in his father’s oversized flack jacket.

           “Bye, Sammy.” Dean walks over to his little brother and messes up his hair. “I’ll miss you, kid.”

           “Okay.” Sam smooths his hair out.

           “Maybe when I get back you’ll have grown a few inches.” Dean teases. “Anyway, here.” He takes his father’s dog tags from around his neck and puts them on Sam’s. “Keep it safe for me.” Sam just looks at them. “Later kid.”

           “You know you’re not getting these back, right?” Sam grins as his big brother reaches the car.

           “You’d better learn to fight better, then.” Dean winks at him. “And stay out of my room.”

           “Make me.”

           “Call me when you get there.” Mary calls as Dean pulls out of the driveway. He gives her a thumbs up and goes on his way. College. Her baby boy’s going to college. Out of her reach. He’s more than able to take care of himself, she knows, but still… Is this how her parents felt when she decided to leave the family? Trying to pursue a normal life. But this is what she wanted for him. It shouldn’t be this hard.

           “He’ll be fine, mom.” Sam gives her a hug. “Dean can handle anything.”

           “Yeah.” Mary wipes her eyes. “And he’ll be home on the holidays so it’s not as if he’ll be gone forever.” she gives a heavy sigh, “Well anyway.” She smiles.”It looks like it finally just you and me, kid. At least for a while.” Mary puts her arm, around his shoulder. Sam just shrugs. “And speaking of school. I’m not going to be hearing from your teachers about your missing homework again this year, am I?” ]

            Sam just shrugs.

            “I don’t understand, Sam. You saw how hard Dean worked to get A’s and B;s even with wrestling practice and volunteering at the firehouse. “You, if you tried a little bit you’d be a straight A student.”

            “So A’s and B’s are fine as long as Dean’s getting them, but if I get A’s and B’s I’m a failure.” He breaks away, heading back to the house.

             “I didn’t say that, Sam.” Mary sounds as annoyed as she feels, but she follows him inside. “A’s and B’s are fine. But I don’t like this habit of yours of being lazy about your work. If you want to get into a good college you’ll have to step it up.”

             “I’m not going to college mom. I’m joining the marines and if I can’t I’m going to be a hunter.”

             “Oh, no you are not young man!”

             “You can’t tell me what to do with my life! If I want to be a hunter you can’t stop me and if I want to join the marines you can’t stop me from doing that either!”

             “Oh, yes I can. I am your mother!” Mary follows her son as he stomps up the stairs.

             “Not after I turn eighteen you won’t be!”

             “That’s what you think. I am your mother for for all of eternity, young man, and if you think I’m going to let you throw your life away like this, you’ve got another thing coming! You can’t half ass it as either a hunter or a marine, no matter how good or smart you are! You can’t take short cuts, you can’t slack off or you’ll be dead, and other people will be dead and it will be your fault. You can’t even put in enough effort to do a few worksheets after class? You’re not fit to be either of those things. Not with that kind of thinking.” She hammers it in, hoping it’ll work.

             “FINE!” He slams his bedroom door shut.

             “FINE!” Mary replies, not sure whether he means ‘fine he’ll do his homework’ or ‘ fine he won’t become a hunter or marine.’ Either one will do for now. She heads back to the freezer in the garage to see if Dean left anything that’ll have to be cooked. It’s stacked full of plastic containers filled with dinners. Spagghetti and meatballs with baked zucchini and summer squash. Chicken, honey glazed carrots mashed potatoes and sauteed spinach. She probably won’t have to worry about dinners until he comes back for thanksgiving. There’s a box of chicken strips ‘ for ceasar salads’. She probably should make Sam eat some salads.

             Sometimes she just doesn’t know how to deal with Sam. What to say, what to do. It’s easier with Dean. She understands him better. They’re a lot alike and it’s just… easier. But Sam he’s more like his father and grandfather. Stubborn, strong willed, short tempered. Not that she doesn’t have a temper of her own. And she’s fairly sure she’s stubborn and strong willed, too, but not to this degree. Right?

              Maybe calling him lazy was too much. He rarely plays video games. Most of the time he’s online anyways or in the library researching things like military tactics, folk lore, guide to basic training, ancient religions, the history of the marine corps,  horror stories and war stories. He’s studying something. Doing a sort of homework for what he wants in life. He even goes exercises and stuff early in the morning. But why does he want this? He has a life, a safe semi normal life. One he can translate into a safe normal life for his children. Where he can be safe and happy or at least more than he could ever be and either of those things.

              If she hadn’t kept hunting, would he still want to do that? If John hadn’t died, would he still want to be a marine? Maybe John would have been able to talk him out of it, or make him understand that taking a human life is so much worse than just failing to save one. Maybe he’d just end up rebelling against him, too. Maybe she should call Bill. Get some advice. Maybe get ahold of one of the old hunters who were once in the service.

               Of course that might just make him dig in his heels, most likely. Maybe she should just learn to accept it. And support him whatever he ends up deciding to do. Maybe she an at least get him to go to college first. Maybe get a master in Ancient languages, or the occult or something. Have him contribute to the fight that way. Or have him go to officers school, be a non combatant. Maybe west point. There’s time. He’s only fourteen. She’ll think of something.

               Mean while she’d better make things right with him. This would be a bad beginning to a long year. She could apologize for calling him lazy. Maybe. He is half assing it for school. And he does need to do his friggin homework if only to stop the parent teacher conferences.

               “Sam.” She knocks on his door. “Want to go to the skating rink?”

               “What? You mean roller skating?” He sounds confused.

               “If you’re hungry we can eat one of the meals Dean left us or get something at the rink.” She suggests.

               “Um… maybe…”He doesn’t sound overly enthusiastic. “What if people see me there?”

               “Then you’ll see them there.” Mary points out. “Beside’s you’re good at it. At least you were. And if you’re rusty I’ll help you out like I helped your dad.”

               “Dad went roller skating?” Sam looks at her skeptically, through the crack of his door.

               “Yep. We had a lot of dates at the roller rink believe it or not.” Which is true. She knew he was only doing it for her, though, like how she went to the car shows for him. But he did it and she helped him, so it’s not a lie.

               “You never told me that before.”

               “Well, a mothers not going to talk too much about her love life to her kids. Besides I didn’t want to feel like I was manipulating you into going roller skating.” Mary leans on the doorway.

                “I see you’ve gotten over that.” Sam gives her a wry grin.

                “Maybe a little. How about I sweeten the deal. Come roller skating with me and I’ll throw out the seat covers.” This gets a more energetic, hopeful expression from him.

                 “Do you mean it? Throw it away for good?”

                 “Yes, sirree.” 

                 “And you’re not going to replace it with something even more embarrassing.” he accuses.

                 “Nope. Unless of course you don’t start doing your homework.” Mary looks him straight in the eye.

                 “Really?” Sam looks a bit apprehensive at this.

                 “Really. I’ve got a Hello Kitty set being custom made for the impala as we speak. In fact if I keep hearing about you not doing your homework for the semester. I might just have to cheer myself up by getting a nice bright cheery Hello Kitty paint job on my car.” Sam turns absolutely pale at this. “And drive you to school in it every morning and pick you up every afternoon.”

                 “You wouldn’t.” Sam narrows his eyes at her.

                 “You bet your sweet little but I would. Miguel been do some more artistic paint jobs.”

               “You can’t go hunting in a car like that.” Sam points out. “It would be way too conspicuous.”

               “I’ll just stop at Harvelle’s and trade cars. Ask Ellen to drive you and Jo around in that one. Maybe I’ll do sailor moon instead. Jo loves Sailor Moon.”

               “Okay. I’ll do my homework. But this has to be some sort of violation of the geneva convention.” Sam relents.

               “Whatever works.” Mary pats his head.

                “Have you considered bribing me instead of threatening me?” Sam suggests.

                “Threats are cheaper.”

                “If they work.”

                “Oh no, the paint job’s coming out of your college fund.” Mary heads down the stairs. Sam just sighs and follows his mother to the car.

                “Can we stop at Biggersons first?”

                “Sure.”

  
  



	5. Home Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's growing too fast  
> Dean comes home from college  
> The accident

                  “Mo-o-om! I think I need new jeans.” Sam calls downstairs. Mary comes to the stairway to see several inches of legs showing.

                  “Again? We just got those at christmas!” She exclaims. “I think you’re about six feet, Sam-a-lam. You can stop growing now.”

                  “Mom…”

                  “It’s summer, you know. We could just trim the hems a bit and make you capri’s.” Mary keeps a serious look on her face.

                  “Mom.”

                  “Booty shorts?”

                  “MOM! This isn’t funny. I can’t do anything about how much I grow or how fast. And I can’t go around like this. I look like a freak!”

                  “You could always take up smoking.” Mary teases. From the look on Sam’s face, he’s not in the mood for it. “We’ll get you some new clothes after your brother comes home. I’ll let you two go together.”

                  “Oh, sure. We’ll go shopping, have a nice dinner, maybe a movie. Then afterward we can have a little brotherly salt and burn so he’ll stop haunting me at school.” Sam goes back into his room and turns up some classic rock. Mary just sighs. Most of the faculty at high school thinks Dean is the greatest thing since sliced bread, despite the whole prom thing. Sam used to think so too. Even in parent teacher conferences they bring up Dean. It would probably be weird if Sam didn’t resent that a little.

                    “It’s not your brother’s fault, your teachers are insensitive douchebags, Sam-a-lam.” She calls up after him from the bottom of the stairs. God, it feels like half her time with Sam consists of her yelling from the bottom of the stairs as he storms up them to go to his room. 

                    “Stop calling me that! I’m not Sammy. I’m not Sam-a-lam. And I’m definitely not Sam-a-lam-a-ding-dong. My name is Samuel.” 

                     “Jesus…” Mary covers her face. This again. Ever since starting high school he’s insisting on being called Samuel. But he’s not Samuel. Her father was Samuel. He's her little Sam-a-lam. Well maybe little’s not the right word anymore. God, it’s like he’s doing all his growing in one year, which would explain why he’s so cranky if he hadn’t had just as much attitude the first few years.

                     “Hello?” The front door opens. “Mom? Sammy?”

                     “It’s SAMUEL!” His bedroom door slams

                     “Ah, that time of the month again, huh?” Dean grins and gives his mother a hug. A rather shy indian woman inches into view. “I missed you mom. Mind if we come in?” Dean lets go and waves his friend over.

                      “Oh, of course.” Mary steps back to let them in. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Mary, Dean’s mother.”

                      “I am Saachi Joshi, a friend of your sons. My brother’s car broke down on the way to come get me, so Dean offered to take me to meet him and help him with his car.” She gives a polite nod.

                      “I just have to borrow a few things from the garage, if that’s okay.” Dean gives his mother a sheepish smile.

                      “Sure, but this garage.” Mary points to the side of the house. “You can take the road emergency kit from the impala. Would you like something to drink, Saachi?” She offers.

                      “Just some water, thank you.”

                      “I’ll be right back.” Dean pats her arm, “Have a seat.”

                      “Yes, have a seat.” Mary waves Saachi to follow her into the kitchen. “Would you like something to eat? We have plenty of snacks.”

                       “Oh, no thank you, We stopped at a sushi place outside the city before we left.” she explains and accepts the water.

                        “So, how long have you and my son been dating?” Mary crosses her arms, looking every inch the protective mother. Saachi just gives a laugh.

                        “Oh, we’re not dating. Dean is... He’s seeing someone and I’m already engaged. We just shared a comparative religions class and he fell in love with my lunch boxes. We share notes sometimes and I teach him how to cook some of my favorite meals and vice versa.”

                          “That sounds nice. I’ll have to have him make us something.”

                          “You should be so proud of your son.” Saachi touches Mary’s hand. “He is the perfect gentleman. Always the designated driver. He always makes sure nobody takes advantage and escorts any women home from the library when it closes. He’s the first person to go to when you have car trouble as well.”

                            “Glad to hear it. Dean’s always been mechanically inclined. If he wasn’t so set on joining law enforcement, I’d have him join me at the garage or maybe an engineer, who knows.” Mary smiles wistfully.

                            “He’s doing very well on the wrestling team, too. He’s the captain this year and there have been some olympic scouts coming.” She whispers. “Don’t tell him I told you. He’s been talking to them a lot and he may want to surprise you.”

                            “Alright, Saachi. I’m ready. Mom? I’ll be back no earlier than two hours depending on what’s wrong with his car.” Dean gives his mother a kiss and grabs a few water bottles from the fridge.

                            “Drive safe.” Mary waves as they leave.

                            “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Winchester.”

 

                            Fortunately it only takes 3 hours and Sam just stays in his room.

                           “So, is there something I should know about?” Mary pries as soon as Dean comes back in. He looks a little surprised.

                           “Not really. Why?” he gives his mother a suspicious look.

                           “Your friend seemed to be talking you up like I was going to be hearing something less than pleasant shortly. And she said you were dating someone. Maybe you think I’d dislike her?” Mary interrogates him, hoping he’ll correct her with the good news she’s expecting.

                            “She did?”He frowns.

                            “Please just tell me if I’m going to become a grandmother.”

                            “Ha! No way. And I’m not dating anyone. I mean not one person in particular. There are a couple people I hook up with every now and then, but it’s nothing serious. Oh, but one of them’s black and the other’s Japanese. Maybe she was worried you were as racist as her parents. You know  ‘It’s fine to be friends, but don’t you dare marry outside your race.’ You know.” Dean shrugs.

                            “Oh. No. I don’t care about that, so long as they’re human. Come home with a werewolf and I might have some issues. So what if you’ve decided to taste the rainbow.” Mary shrugs and goes to get a beer from the fridge.

                             “That’s not what that means, mom.” Dean forces himself not to laugh.

                             “No? What does it mean then?”

                             “So how are you and Sammy doing?” He quickly changes the subject.

                             “Same shit different day. He won’t stop growing is it’s putting him in a hell of a bad mood. Just all the time. Maybe worse than usual. Oh, he needs some new clothes, probably new shoes too. Do you think you’d want to take him to the mall tonight? Or do you want to wait until tomorrow.”

                              “It’s only, like five. Just let me take a quick nap and we’ll go out.” Dean takes out the milk and uncaps it to drink right out of the bottle. Mary clears her throat. “Sorry. Habit.” He gives her a charming smile and goes to get a glass.

                              “Okay, well here’s some money for clothes and maybe dinner and a movie.” Mary takes out her wallet. “I need to go back into the garage and get somethings done.”

                               “Don’t worry about it, mom. I got this.” Dean waves it away and gulps down the milk.

                               “I guess being a bartender pays pretty well.” Marry comments, Dean’s smile gets a little strange for a minute.

                               “I do alright.” He grins, almost instantly back to normal, and heads up to his room. “What the hell! Who broke my trophies? SAM! I told you stay out of my room, you little brat!” the sounds of Sam’s door being kicked open and the beginning of a brotherly beat down just makes Mary sigh and shake her head. At least Dean put the glass in the sink and the milk in the fridge first. “Damn, Sam. How much have you grown this year?” The fighting suddenly stops.

                              “Enough.”

                              “What are you take steroids? Bathing in premium growth plant fertilizer?”

                              “Bite me, Dean.”

                              “Screw a nap. We’re going straight to the mall. I mean, you are done growing, right? Cause if not, it is summer time. We could just make you some capris. Maybe some booty shorts.” Mary can’t help but laugh quietly to herself as he heads to the garage. Sam’s silence says it all. “It would be more cost efficient.”

                               “Dean. Go away.”

  
  


                             The house phone rings right next to Mary’s head. Twelve o clock? Who the hell is calling at twelve o’clock?

                             “Winchester residence.” She mumbles into the phone. “Mary speaking.”

                             “Mom?” Sam’s on the phone. There are the sounds of sirens in the background. “There’s been an accident. They’re going to be taking us to Smith Center. I’m sorry.”

                              “What? What happened?” She sits up.

                              “You have to hang up, sir. We have to get you on the gurney.” She hears in the background.

                              “It was my fault, mom. I’m sorry.” The phone hangs up. Mary’s out of bed in a second and drives as fast as she can to the hospital in Smith Center. It’s a few hours of waiting until they take her back to their room. She’s just glad they were able to place both boys together.

                               Dean has a fairly severe concussion and hasn’t woken up yet. No broken bones somehow but a lot of bruises and lacerations. He also has a completely dislocated hip. Sam broke his arm in three places, and a few ribs. They both had to have some glass removed from their faces. Sam ended up needing a transfusion. Another reminder that a normal life is no guarantee of a long life or a happy one.  Neither of them wake up again until the next day. Sam first.

                                “Hi, mom.” Sam greets her. She turns around from looking at Dean and takes his hand.

                                “Hey, Sam-a-lam.” She kisses his hand and holds it to her chest.  “How are you feeling?”

                                “I’m okay.” he lies.

                                “What happened?”

                                “A deer jumped out and I got startled and swerved and went off the road. It was on a slope.” Sam replies slowly. “We rolled and slammed into a rock or tree or something. I don’t really remember it very well.”

                                 “You were driving?”

                                 “Yeah, I mean, I do have my license. Dean had a few too many beers with  dinner so he had me drive.”

                                 “That was responsible of him. You’re sure he wasn’t the one driving, Sam?”

                                 “Yeah, mom. I’m sure. Like I’d fuck up my driving record for Mr. Perfect.”

                                 “Okay.” Mary takes a breath. “You’re not on his insurance, though so you’ll have to work off the repairs yourself this summer. I’ll find something for you to do at the garage.”

                                 “Mom… it’s totalled.”

                                 “You can work on it together. Once you’re healed up, I mean.” She sighs, putting a hand to his cheek on the least injured part. “As long as you’re alive, both of you, That’s all that matters.”

                                 “I’m sorry, Mom.”

                                 “It’s okay, Sammy. It’ll be okay.”

                                 When Dean wakes up Mary’s finally fallen asleep in her chair.

                                 “Sammy? Sam?” He opens his eyes, calling for his brother.

                                 “It’s okay. I’m here.” Sam looks over at him.

                                 “Sam… I’m so sorry…”

                                 “For what?”

                                 “I was… I was driving… the accident..” Dean sounds unsure. There’s no way he could remember given that he was probably black out drunk by the time he finished the whiskey shots he started downing after his fifth beer. “Wasn’t I?”

                               “No, Dean. You weren’t.”

                               “I wasn’t?”

                               “No, you let me drive. I told you, that you were too drunk to drive, but instead of telling me to shut up and just get in, you gave me the keys and let me drive.”

                                “That doesn’t sound like me. Letting a little twerp like you drive my car.” Dean grins.

                                “Well, you did. I had to threaten to tell mom, but yeah. And then I go and crash your car anyway. It’s totaled. I’m sorry.”

                                “That’s okay, dude, as long as you’re okay. Are you okay?”

                                “Yeah, I’m okay.”

                                “Okay.” Dean gives him a thumbs up and closes his eyes again.

                                “Okay.”

                                “Wait… I didn’t say anything... when I was drunk. Did I?” He looks a little frightened.

                                “No, well, you did show me your uniform for work, while showing me pictures from college.” Sam smiles. Dean groans at this. “And maybe some stupid boring college stuff I didn’t pay attention to.”

                                “Okay. Don’t tell…”

                                “I won’t.” Sam grins. Black studded leather studded cuffs and collar with black leather booty shorts isn’t exactly something he wants to talk to his mother about. In fact, he’d rather erase that image from his brain even if he has to scrub his eyeballs with steel wool.


	6. Uncle Sam Wants You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's response to 9-11  
> The big fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're liking it, please leave comments. Even if you're not liking it so I can improve. but I don't get paid for this so comments are my bread and butter. I am a needy, insecure author, so any feedback is wonderful. Thank you. keep enjoying the story :)  
> p.s. this is a short chapter so I'll be putting Chapter 7 up tonight.

 2001

 

               “You could have been starting school right now, you know.” Mary scolds Sam as he brings the mail in. “If you hadn’t slacked off on taking the SAT’s which you promised to take.”

               “And I did take them. I’m considering my options.” Sam flips through the letters, tossing a few in the trash. “And I took the ACT’s, too.”

               “I know.” Mary says dryly. Recruiters have been calling nonstop since then. Fortunately, he’s working with her at the garage most of the day, so she can avoid him getting most of them. And she can hang up on them when she’s home. Toss some of the pamplets they send. Except of course for the Coast Guard, West Point, The National Guard, or other military schools which would end up putting him out of the direct line of fire. She’s been really pushing colleges with good ancient religion and myths and legends programs and such. If he wants to be a hunter or soldier have him take the safest possible jobs for them.

               “Wait is this from Stanford?” Mary picks up a large packet from the trash.

               “I didn’t apply to Stanford.” Sam tosses a few more things.

               “This is an acceptance letter, Sam, and a new student packet!”

               “I didn’t apply to Stanford.” Sam grabs it. “DEAN!”

               “What?” His big brother looks over from the kitchen table.

               “Did you fill in an application to Stanford for me?” Sam accuses.

               “Yeah, why? Did you get in?” Dean asks, his mouth clearly full of food.

               “You can’t do that! Not that I’m not impressed that you wrote an essay good enough for Stanford, but that’s kind of fraud.”

               “No, it’s not.” Dean swallows his mouthful of banana. “I sent in one of your old essays from middle school.”

               “What?”

               “ You know, who is your biggest hero. But it has to be someone who’s alive, so you wrote about mom.”

                “You sent in a seventh grade essay for a college application!? And what about forging my signature?”

                “ Look, Sammy, you’re a straight A student, the Valedictorian of your high school, a track star, and you volunteer at the VFW every weekend. You’re setting your sights way too low. Not to mention your 1586 on the SAT’s. Yale and Harvard should be replying soon, too.” Their mother walks off to get the ringing phone.

                 “Hey, Ralph. What? What do you mean, turn on the tv?’ She walks over to the remote and turns on the news. “Shit.” She just stares at the image on the screen.

                 “What’s wrong?” Dean gets up and follows Sam into the living room.

                 “It’s a.. It’s a terrorist attack.” Sam replies. “In New York City. That’s the World trade center.”

                 “Son of a bitch.” Dean stares at the screen alongside his mother. Sam just gets a dark look on his face.

                 “Oh no you don’t.” Mary quickly reaches back to grab her youngest’s arm as he turns to go.

                 “Mom, let go of me.” He says in the calm even tone that she knows means trouble.

                 “Absolutely not. You are not leaving this house until you calm down Mister.”

                 “I am calm, mom.”

                 “No you’re not. You’re furious and worked up and are ready to march right out this door and sign your life and soul away to the army.”

                  “I’m joining the Marine’s, mom.” He corrects her cooly, waiting for her to let go.

                  “No. You’re not!”

                  “You can’t stop me. I’m eighteen years old. I can do what I want.” He reminds her.

                  “You can go to college. That’s what you can do!” 

                  “I don’t want to go to college!” his anger finally leaks through as she refuses to let go of his arm. “I’m only even considering it to make you happy. But that doesn’t matter now. This is a major attack on U.S. soil.”

                    “That may be, but do you think you’re the only person eager to join right now? They’ll have thousands of other young lives to throw away! They don’t need yours.”

                    “Did you ever think that maybe I might be a good soldier? That maybe I can keep as many lives from being lost as I take?”

                     “How? By murdering other human beings? Is that how I raised you?” Mary retorts. Sam just looks at her, his jaws clenched. “You don’t kill human beings, Sam.”

                     “Is that what you really thought of him? Was Dad just a murderer to you?”

                     “Sam…”

                     “No.”

                     “ He wasn’t proud of it, Sam. He never wanted to talk about it. He had nightmares. He drank. That’s how hard it was.”

                     “He saved lives, Mom. He protected our country.”

                     “He was lied to and used by the political machine trying to buy oil and influence with the lives of it’s citizens. He survived it, that’s all. And you want to do the same thing that kept him buried in drinks and night terrors to the end of his life?”

                      “Don’t you talk about him that way.”

                      “I didn’t want to. I don’t want to talk about his faults and flaws and mistakes with you,Sam. Especially you, who is so much like him. But I can’t just let you throw yourself blindly into the same nightmares that were destroying him. If it weren’t for them he wouldn’t have even been asleep in that chair downstairs, so far away from the gun safe that night. He wouldn’t have died so pointlessly.”

                      “I hate you.” Sam takes his arm back, walking out the door.

                      “Sam!” Dean runs after him. “Don’t you talk to mom that way!”

                      “Go fuck yourself, Dean!”

                      “No you fuck yourself. That woman has done everything for us, given us everything and you have no right to disrespect her like that! Do you hear me, you ungrateful little bitch?”

                      “Again, go fuck yourself, Dean.”

                      Mary can hear the damn motorcycle he bought himself for senior year as it starts and drives off. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. It was working. He was going to go to college, fall in love with a girl and a subject. He loves learning. He was always reading and researching things. Maybe he could have learned to just be himself instead of trying to be the father he doesn’t even remember.

                      “Are you okay, mom?” Dean comes back, giving his mother a hug. 

                      “Yeah, Dean Bean. I’m okay.” She closes her eyes.

                      “You know, police officers have to kill people too sometimes.”

                      “Yes, well, it’s not the whole point of your job, is it?’ Mary kisses his cheek. Still trying to help out his little brother even after this. Who could ever ask for a better son.

                       “Did you really think of dad as a murderer?” He can’t help but ask.

                       “At first. I just saw him as a soldier. A lot of hunters are former soldiers. Often because of the draft. And the thought of humans killing humans when we go to such lengths to keep them from being killed by ghosts and monsters and the fallen is unbelievably frustrating. He thought I was just some brainless sheltered anti war pacifist. It was just lucky that we eventually got to see past that , to who we really were on the inside and fall in love. It wasn’t perfect, but we always loved each other.”

                       “I know, mom.” he reassures her. “I know. And so does Sam. He doesn’t really hate you.”

                       “I know. It’s not the first time either of you has said it.” She grins.

                       “He’ll calm down and come back in a little bit.” Dean tries to reassure her, but Mary’s not so sure.


	7. The Good Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T

2002

         “Mom!” Sam looks surprised as Mary and Dean make their way through the crowd to the cadets. “Dean. What are you doing here?”

         “You didn’t think we were going to miss your graduation from bootcamp, did you?” Dean grins.

         “Given as I didn’t… we didn’t….” Sam looks down at his older brother and smiles. “Nice pornstache, Dean.”

         “Yeah, it’s a nightmare. I‘m shaving it as soon as we graduate from the academy. We’re having a best mustache contest. Winner gets a hundred bucks.”

         “Dude, totally not worth it.” Sam laughs.

         “Look who’s talking, Mr. Buzzcut.” Dean grabs the cap off his head.

         “What’s wrong with a buzzcut? It’s practical.”

         “You had such beautiful hair.” Mary sighs, reaching up to feel her son’s shorn head. “You look good in your dress uniform, though.”

         “I can’t believe you made it through bootcamp without being kicked out for insubordination.” His brother shakes his head.

         “Shut up, Dean.”

         “ See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about.”Dean points out.

         “You’re not my superior officer.” Sam snaps and rubs the back of his neck. “But thank you for coming.”

          “Of course we did. We love you Sam. I’m your mother. I’ll always love you, even if I don’t agree with what you’re doing. Just… keep yourself alive, okay?” Even if you can’t tell me what you’re doing, find some way to let me know you’re alive at least. Okay?” Mary reaches out her arms for a hug..

           “Okay.” Sam returns her embrace. “I love you too, mom. I’m sorry.”

           “It’s okay. I understand. I had parents too, you know.” She pats his back. “When you have leave… Please come home.”

           “I’ll do my best.”

           “To be honest,” Mary whispers in his ear. “I’m not much fonder of the police than I am the military.” Sam laughs a little at this. “Well, I am a hunter after all.”

           “What? What’s the joke?” Dean asks.

          “Nothing.”Sam smiles

          “Nothing.”Mary repeats.

          “I’m sorry I missed your birthday, Dean.”

          “Don’t worry about it  I’ll just buy myself something nice with the money I would have spent on your present.” Dean gives him a light punch on the shoulder.

          “Okay, but what can you do with $2.95?”

          “I don’t just get you cards, you little twerp.”

          “You have the last four years. With an IOU inside.”

          “Yeah, and I take you out to do something awesome when I get home from school. Remember the rolling stones concert?” Dean reminds him, but Sam’s not having it.

          “You made me pay for my food and reimburse you for the ticket!”

          “Yeah, but I drove you there and I didn’t ask for gas.”

         “Okay, no fighting.” Mary puts a hand on her boys shoulders, though it’s kind of nice to see them even bickering with each other. “Can you come to dinner with us?”

          “Um, I… I’m not sure. I didn’t.. I didn’t fill out any forms. I’m sorry.” Sam rubs the back of his neck. “I can ask though.”

          “Don’t worry about it. Just keep yourself alive, okay, Sam-a-lam?” Mary gives her son a kiss on the cheek.

          “It’s Samuel.”He replies automatically. “Anyways I’m being sent to my new unit soon. I’m hoping it’s somewhere in the middle east. I’ve been learning arabic just in case.”

          “Keep an eye out for Djinn. Do you remember the antidotes for the different kinds?”

          “Yes, mom.”

          “And make sure you get a knife set, the first thing you do, silver, iron, copper. And find a local hunter supply store. You know the marks. There’s at least one in every large city. Especially Europe. More so in Europe and the rest of the continent. If you can make some special bullets, do it. Be as prepared as you need to be.”

          “Mom, I know.” He pats her back.

          “Just because you’re in uniform doesn’t mean the supernatural world will just go away.” Dean butts in.

           “But if you hear laugher, and you’ll know it when you hear it. Or a song of unimaginable beauty, you just run.”

            “Yes, mom.” He promises. “I should.. I should probably go back and finish getting ready.” Sam tries to pull away from his mother, but she won’t let go. ‘Mom, its okay. I’ll be fine.” He reassures her.

            “I know.” Mary lies. “Just let me look at you for a little while longer.” She places her hands on his face and just takes him in, her smiling handsome baby boy. He’s going off to fight a war with invisible enemies without a country, without any clear end and he’s not going to survive it. She can’t help but feel that this is the last time she ever sees her baby boy. “John would be so proud of you.”

  
  


              Not many letters come through. Mary frequently reminds herself that no news is good news. Sometimes she gets a package of one flower, pressed between wax paper. But it’s always mailed from Washington DC and had nothing else in it. Neither is the name and address on it in her son’s handwriting. He comes home to visit once for a month, but is called away, half way through.  Mary prepares for him never to come home again.

              Dean taught her how to send emails and what his email was. No real reply comes. Just the occaisional empty casual thing. Hi. How are you and Dean? I’m good. I miss you. Love you both. But she does get notices from his superiors for commendations, and promotions. She’s been asked to accept medals in his place. If she’s not there to do it, Dean takes her place.

              Dean stops dating for a while, but is on the phone a lot and makes a lot of trips to the Roadhouse. In 2006 he tells his mother that he’s been seeing Jo and that he’s going to ask her to marry him. Mary not being an idiot was already well aware of that. Sam doesn’t reply to that email.

2007

 

“I’m not moving in with your mother, Dean.” Jo says flatly as they enter the house. “No offense, Mrs. Winchester

“None taken.” Mary hands them each a beer.

“It wouldn’t be permanent. Just until a house on this block comes on the market. I know several people are considering moving this year.” Dean explains. “I don’t want to be stuck in a rental agreement when we find one. Besides it’s been a while since we’ve heard anything.”

“You mama’s boy.” Jo sighs and gives him a kiss.

“Besides, you know you’re going to be off hunting most of the time. Mom will either be hunting or at the garage.” He wheedles.

“Yeah, but just to save a few bucks?” Jo looks at him.

“Hey, who’s the one with the income here?”

“You are, officer. But I’m the one with your handcuffs.” She holds them up.

“I guess I’m in trouble now, huh?” Dean grins. Jo just laughs. Mary just clears her throat.

“Tell you what, lover. You keep being a good son until you can get the house and when it’s bought, we’ll get married.” Jo pats his cheek. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Dean agrees. “But we have to give Sam enough notice so he can request leave and come to our wedding.” Jo’s just silent for a minute and nods.

“Sure.” She forces a smile. She knows them both pretty well, Sam and Dean. Every summer they spent together, it was easy to see Sam wilting in the shadow of his older brother. Who wouldn’t feel the pressure of having a perfect older sibling, smart, popular, athletic, well behaved, the golden child. Who could live up to that? Besides it was clear to everyone that Dean is and always has been Mary’s favorite. The one she dotes the most on. Sure she obviously loves Sam and isn’t bad or neglectful or anything, but still. Why would he come home from a place he’s made a name for himself and come back to where he’s only second best?

Jo’s always known how much Sam struggled with both loving his brother and resenting him. The same with his mother. She wasn’t surprised when Dean told her Sam had broken his trophies when he was away at college. It’s weird, since Sam could have had plenty of trophies of his own, but he was always doing other things, like working on a small table top rpg he called Hunters and made the Hunter Wiki probably one of the most comprehensive monster guide they have. He turned it over to Bobby before he shipped out. Apparently he’d been consulting him about it since he was maybe eight.   Jo doesn’t even know if he told his mother about it.

Maybe he wanted to have it in case he decided to become a hunter so he could convince his mom he knew what he was getting into. One thing Mary Winchester and Ellen Harvelle-Singer have in common is that neither want their children to be like their fathers. One thing Jo and Sam have in common is that they were determined to follow in their father’s footsteps no matter what their mothers had to say about it. Of course, Mary wouldn’t have wanted Sam taking her path either.

The honest truth though is that Sam probably won’t come to their wedding simply because Sam had loved her first. She knows it. Her parents knew it. Pretty much everyone knew it but Dean. Of course, he had also missed out on the fact that Jo only ever had eyes for him. Which everyone else knew as well. Sam’s over his feelings for her now, of course, but attending a celebration of yet another time he was lost in his brother’s shadow my not be something he can do.

Despite Dean’s hope, she knows Sam’s not going to come home for the wedding. In truth, Sam might not come home again at all, living or dead. But she’ll never break Dean’s heart by saying that. Just like she’ll never wonder out loud to him if the accident they were in was really an accident. Like a subconscious thing. After all with the damage to his hip, he couldn’t wrestle anymore, lost the scholarship and had to go back to school a semester later because because of the muscles and tendons torn when it happens.

And Dean was even being scouted for the olympic wrestling team. He hadn’t told anybody yet. But after wards, he told her because he felt he had to tell somebody. He cried in her arms and made her promise not to tell Sam. He didn’t ever want his little brother to carry that kind of guilt. He loves his brother so much. In truth Jo’s not sure he’d have ever been with her, much less asked her to marry him, if he had know how Sam felt about her. Especially if he knew how close they’d been after her father died, for those three days before Dean drove down from college to be there for her, and help her mother with the bar for the next several weeks.

“Hey, Joanna, are you okay?”Dean puts a hand to her face.

“Yeah, sorry.” She smiles. “You know I would love to see your room again. Is it still full of posters and trophies?” Joe teases. “And themed fitted sheets? Dirty magazines under the matress? Jo breaks away and starts up the stairs.

“Jo, it’s 2007. It’s all on the internet now.” He calls up and turns to his mother who’s leaning on the wall, a beer in her hand. “What time do you want dinner?”

“I’m good.” She waves off the offer. “I need to get back to the garage anyways. Congratulations, you two. But seriously Dean? Asking her to move in with your mother after you marry? Mary just shakes his head at him, though she can’t help but feeling a little pleased.

“Well, Grandpa lived with you and dad, kind of. And I thought it’d be nice for Jo to have you around to help with the baby.” Dean shrugs. Mary chokes on her beer.

“She’s pregnant?”

“What? No!” Dean exclaims putting up his hands. “Nope, no. After we get married and get everything settled we will. Hopefully I’ll be elected Sheriff first. But you know, that’ll be easier once I pass 30, and have a few kids. Sheriff Meyers is actually rooting for me.He’s planning on retiring in a couple of years or so. I think he’ll be willing to endorse me once he does. So hopefully.”Dean crosses his fingers. “I mean being a Sheriff’s not as impressive as being a war hero, but… you know,” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Dean. I am proud of you. I will always be proud of you. No woman could ask for a better son.” Mary gives her oldest a hug and kisses his cheek. “I’m so happy that you have a good life, a normal life, with a good job and a good wife soon enough. You’re going to have everything I ever wanted for you. I just wish…”

“I know, mom. I miss him, too.”

2008

“Dean!” Mary calls, rushing into the sheriff’s office. “There’s a letter!” She holds up an envelope. Dean gets up from his desk and almost sprints to take it from her. “It’s for you, it was in a packet with my pressed flower and a Men of the Marine’s calendar. I left that at home.” Dean opens the letter. Much to his dismay it’s really short.

“Den, 

Congratulations. I wish you and Jo all the best. I won’t be attending. I’m out on a special assignment and my work has to take top priority right now. Send me a picture or video of it if you can. Tell mom I said hi. Love you both.

Staff Seargent Samuel ‘Mule’ Winchester”

Dean looks at the letter, disappointed.

“Well, that’s something at least.” Mary puts a hand on his shoulder. Dean just nods. “Maybe I should have let this wait until you got home.”

“No, it’s fine, mom.” He places a hand over the one on his shoulder. “Sam says hi.:” Dean suddenly smiles and gives a chuckle. “Mule, what a nickname.?’

“Yeah, “ Mary sighs. He;s not dead yet. That’s all she can really ask for.

 

The rest of the year has nothing but good news. One of the neigbors next door decided to move closer to their grandchildren in florida. They called Dean first and offered to sell it to him because they knew he looking. He bought it and they moved in within three months. The next morning they got married. 

Freinds from work, college, high school, and a few prominent figures show up on Dean’s side. Alot of hunters and Jo’s mother and step father Bobby came on Jo’s . Dean takes it in stride when  Jo’s side all ask his mother to take care of her, and nor him. After all most of them aren’t exactly thrilled with the groom wearing his dress uniform. Yes, they all knew him, but he still got a fair amount of stick eye.

The wedding gifts were all itens practical for a hunter. Specially bullets, talismens, weapons, and a few copies of useful spells. Jo was thrilled. On Dean’s side they gave the couple a lot of cookware. A fondue pot, a full set of spring form pans, a deli slicer. A waffle maker. A donut machine and the full set of Alton brown’s cookbooks. So Dean was thrilled as well.

In December, they announce they’re going to have a baby. They make sure to let Sam know.


	8. The Walls Come Tumbling Down.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the notice  
> the proof  
> the funeral

2009

            The next year doesn’t turn out so well. Jo has a miscarriage three months along. They go to find a fetal heartbeat at her appointment and can’t. There’s no reason given, just that it happens sometimes. In July when things are getting slightly easier to bear. Three soldiers in dress uniform come to Mary’s door. She refuses to let them in and refuses to sit down. They inform her that First Seargent Samuel Henry Winchester had died in combat and his body was unable to be retrieved. They’re surprised when her expression doesn’t change at all at the news. She simply says thank you and closed the door. 

            She knew the second she saw them that Sam was dead. She just walks up to his room and places the things they gave her on his bed, then sits down at his desk and just stays there, only getting up to go to the bathroom for the next few days. It only takes two for Dean to come and check on her.

             “Mom?” He calls as he enters the house. “Everything okay? You’re not answering your phone. Did you lose it again?” Mary doesn’t answer him. She just doesn’t know what to say. “Are you sick? Should I make some chicken soup?”  He checks out back when she’s not down stairs, then he heads upstairs. Maybe she’s knocked out with some nyquil or something. But she’s not in her room either. So he goes to Sam’s. “Hi, mom.”

              “Hi, Dean.” She says quietly.

              “Are you okay?” He walks in and kneels in front of her. She doesn’t want to tell him. She doesn’t want to say it out loud. “It’s okay, mom. I know you miss him and worry about him, but it’s going to be alright.” He takes her hand. “He asked me not to say anything to you. He wanted to surprise you. But after I got that letter, he emailed me saying he was coming home after his next mission. That he’s not re-enlisting. He wants to help me with the baby when you and Jo are off hunting. I didn’t tell him about the miscarriage so he’ll still come home, but it’ll just be a few more weeks…”

                The sound that comes out of her is both heartbreaking and terrifying.

                 “She did this! I know she did this! She couldn’t find you, but she found him! That bastard! YOU BASTARD!” All she can do is cry and scream into her eldest son’s shoulder.

                 “Mom?” He starts to feel more than a little frightened.

                 “He dead. He died in combat. The couldn’t even recover his body.”

                 “Then… how do they know he’s really dead?” Dean argues. “If there’s no body… He could just be missing. He could be captured or escaped while injured. This… he doesn’t have to be dead. It’s not like they don’t screw things up every now and then.”

                  “They would have made sure, Dean. They’re the goddamn Marines. They’d never have abandoned him if there was any hope he was alive.” Mary wipes her eyes, and leaves the room, going to her bedroom. “I’m going hunting.” Her voice is darker than Dean’s ever heard before.

                   “Mom, you know this isn’t a good time to go hunting. You’re upset. You’re greiving. That could make you careless. You could die, or worse. And then what would my future children do? Are you going to make it so that all they know of you is what I tell them? That they’re never put to sleep by you softly singing ‘Hey Jude’? They’re never going to be treated to an unhealthy meal of store bought food and desserts.

               “I’ve already passed along my cooking secrets to your wife.” She gives a pained smile. “This isn’t time for jokes, Dean. She took him from me and I’m going to take EVERYTHING from her!”

                “What? Mom, Sam died in combat, if he’s even dead. Whoever attacked him is probably dead even so. So who are you talking about?”

                “The Nightingale, Dean! I’m talking about the Nightingale!” She grabs a bible from her dresser and heads back out.

                “Mom. Stop.” Dean grabs her arms. “You’re not making sense. Why would some Fallen angel be after Sam and there’s… Why would you even think that? You’re not making sense and going after the most dangerous Fallen Angel in existence is crazy! It’s suicide. I am not letting you go kill yourself!”

                “I don’t have to explain myself to you, Dean. I am you mother!” When he doesn’t let go, she kicks him out the door against the opposing wall in the hallway. When she steps out she pauses and looks at a dart coming out of her shoulder, after another step she stumbles.

                “Sorry, mom.” Jo apologizes, putting down the tranquilizer gun as Dean catches his mother.

                 “Jo! What the fuck!” he exclaims and cringes when he sees one of his colleagues behind her. “Johnson. I don’t care who the fuck you are aiming at, you put that gun away, right this instant! Do you understand me?”

                  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I’m… I was just responding to a call. An ambulance is on it’s way.”

                  “Cancel it. My mother’s fine. She’ll be alright.” Dean insists.

                  “Well, aside from the tranquilizer, which I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you down to the station for, Mrs. Winchester.” he apologizes to her.

                   “It’s alright. I’ll go.” She blows her husband a kiss and puts the tranquilizer gun on the table as another police officer comes in. “Willingly. I really thinks she needs to be taken to the hospital. She was raving about fallen angels killing her son and I think she might be suicidal. And make sure you get my hubby checked out. My mother in law is a lot stronger than she looks.”

                    “I’m fine. I’m not pressing charges.” Dean walks slowly down the stairs, his mother over his shoulder. The pained look on his face as he does so makes it obvious he’s not fine. They can hear the ambulance coming.

                    “Just to make sure.” officer Johnson says as the EMT’s come in and take Mary from Dean. “In case she has a bad reaction. And you, too. In case she broke a rib or two.”

                     “I’m fine.” Dean insists.

                     “Dude, I’ve seen you two spar, and she was even going easy on you. And do you remember when she checked out the shooting range? You’ve got to have at least a deep tissue bruise or something. And you’re limping.” Johnson points out as they follow the EMT’s to the ambulance.

                       “I always limp, Johnson.” Dean reminds him.

                       “Yeah, but it gets worse when you’re in pain.” He points out. “C’mon. If you wont take an ambulance, we’ll take you to the hospital. And if you get yourself checked out, we’ll just question your wife at the hospital with you.”

                        “Alright.” Dean sighs, and gets in the back of the police car with his wife. 

                        “So, um, are you okay? You know, emotionally?” Jo asks warily. Dean just nods. “I didn’t know I was shooting your mom. I just heard someone screeching about fallen angels and kick you across the hallway.” She lies. But they’re in a police car with  policemen, so he understands.

                      “Why do you even have a tranquilizer gun?” He can’t help but ask.

                      “It was a wedding gift from your mother.” Jo confesses.

                      “What?”

                      “For when we have children.” Jo leans over to nudge his body with her own. Dean just laughs.

                      “Ow.” he groans. “Don’t make me laugh.”

                      “So what the hell happened?” Jo whispers. “Is she okay?”

                      “I’m more worried about you when she finds out you tried to get her commited.”                            

                      “Dean…” Jo looks at him. “Tell me.”

                      “She thinks Sam’s dead.” He says after a minute. There’s dead silence.

                      “Why does she think that?” Jo asks softly.

                      “Because someone from the Marines came and told her he was.” Dean leans his head. “He’s not, though.”

                      “No?”

                      “They couldn’t recover his body. How can they be sure he’s dead with no body? Sam’s not dead. He’s going to be fine and he’s going to come home. Everything’s going to be alright. Mom just needs to have a little faith, that’s all.” Dean puts a hand around the dual amulet with St. Michael in front, hanging around his neck as always. His mother gave it to him the day he graduated from the academy and he’s never taken it off.

                       “Oh, honey…” Jo puts a hand on his knee, as the men in front exchange looks. “Honey….”

                       “He’ll come home. You’ll see.”

                       “What are you doing here, Winchester?” Sherrif Meyers asks as Dean sits at his desk.

                       “Catching up on paperwork.” he doesn’t look.

                       “Really? Because I recall telling my injured deputy to take the next week off.” he sits on the edge of Dean’s desk, arms crossed. Dean doesn’t say anything.

                       “I’m fine.”

                       “You have seriously bruised ribs which the doctors say is a miracle at least one of them didn’t break, given to you by your mother no less who had a psychotic break because your little brother died in Iraq. You are not fine.”

                        “He’s not dead.” Dean says flatly. “Mom… mom will be fine. She’ll be out of the hospital soon enough. And having bruised ribs doesn’t mean I can’t catch up on my paperwork.”

                         “Winchester… Dean… Go home. Rest, recover, and mourn for your brother. Visit your mother and help her get through this. If you want to do paperwork for free, take some home with you but go home.” Dean stops typing and just sits back in his chair.

                         “I don’t want to go home. I’d rather be here. Hell, I’d rather be out there.” he confesses. “Even just doing parking tickets.”

                          “You’re a liability out there right now.” The Sherrif remind him. “Are you taking painkillers for that?”

                          “I don’t need them.”Dean lies. The sheriff just raises an eyebrow. “I don’t want them. I might like them.”

                          “Fair enough.” The Sheriff nods. “So, you really don’t believe he’s dead, huh?”

                          “He’s special forces, Sheriff. He has his own team and he’s only twenty six. Plus he made it to First Sergeant, through merit alone. He’s the most stubborn pig headed thing you’ve ever met. There’s no way he’d let himself die when he’d promised to come home. If they don’t have a body, it’s because he’s not dead.”Dean looks the sheriff straight in the eyes. There’s no denial in them, just pure absolute faith.

                          “No body, huh?” The Sheriff looks at him some more. “I’ll tell you what. You go home, get your rest and take care of things with your mom and wife and I’ll see what I can find out about your brother. I have a friend in the state department. Maybe I can get some details about the situation they didn’t share with you and your mother. Or couldn’t. Then, you know. You can go from there.”

                          “Thank you.”

                          “Now get out of here.” The sherrif nods. “And make sure to thank your wife for tranqing your wife. She may have saved your life.” he jokes.

                          “Yeah. I should go spend some quality time with her before mom gets out and kills her.” Dean smiles.

                          “You do that.” The Sheriff smiles and pats him gently on the back when he gets up to leave.

 

                           “ We shouldn’t have done this right now.” Jo brushes back her husbands hair from her face. “Why are we even worrying about it anyway?”

                           “Well, I had the time off, right?” Dean rubs her arm as they lie together in bed. “So I’m a little on the low side of normal. That just means we have to try a little harder, maybe have a marathon. Or, you know just keep going bareback on our normal schedule until whenever.”

                           “Yeah, it’s…. It’s not going to happen Dean.” Jo says quietly. “I’m kind of scarred up pretty bad down there from an infection. It was a miracle I even got pregnant at all. It’s just now… it’s not going to happen.”

                           “Oh, well,that’s alright.”

                           “Yeah?” Ho just rests her head on his arm.

                           “Yeah, I mean, my job’s pretty demanding. You’re a hunter. Mom’s a hunter. What kind of life is that for a kid?”

                            “I think we’ve both had pretty good lives so far.”

                            “Yeah. It’s just… a kid would just slow us down, you know. And we’d never get time alone together again. We’d lose all our childless friends. We’re both putting our lives on the line for the greater good so… so what if we don’t have kids. More people are alive because of what you do than we ever could have replaced with kids. Right? The world’s over populated anyway.”

                       “Yeah.” Jo smiles weakly, not fooled for an instant.

                       He was so happy when she told him she was pregnant. He built a crib. Started on the baby’s room. He was putting up wallpaper the day of her appointment and actually cried when it showed the baby was dead. He hasn’t gone back in that room since. Of course neither has she. But he that he said what he did at all makes her feel very loved and right now that’s enough.

                        “I love you, Jo.”

                        “I love you, too, Dean.” She kisses him and they make each other feel very loved for a very long time. And again the next morning until a call comes in around noon.

                        “Lothario’s Lounge. Love em and leave em a large tip. Lay it on me.” Dean answers.

                        “Winchester, Please tell me you never answer your work phone this way.” The Sheriff sighs.

                         “Oh,sh… Um, sorry, sir. I didn’t recognize the number, and no, no I don’t.”

                         “Mm-hm. Remember my friend at the state department? He sent me a copy of a video. I need you to see it. Have your wife drive you.”

                         “I can…”

                         “ Have your wife drive you or I’m not showing it to you. I’ll see you in my office.” He hangs up.    
                         “Jo…” he turns to her.

                         “ I heard.” she gets out of bed.  “I’ll shower first.” Jo gets up and heads into the master bath.

                         “Or I can just use the other bathroom.” Dean gets up and grabs his soap and towel from the bathroom.

                         “Oh, right. I forget about that one.” Jo smacks his nekkid butt as he leaves. 

                         “Walking around naked! Another thing we can’t do with children in the home?”

 

                         “This is a copy from a sim card that was recovered at the scene.” The sherrif says bluntly taking a vhs tape from an envelope. Dean just nods and looks at the old gigantic box tv. “Are you sure you don’t want your wife in here with you?”

                          “I’m sure.” he nods, leaning forwards.

                          “Alright.” The sheriff pushes the tape in. There’s a man with a gun speaking in arabic in front of ruins littered with bodies.

                          “He’s saying their band of twenty five men defeated a hundred marines. That’s not true. Your brother led a five man team and they killed over fifty insurgents.” Dean’s informed.

                          “That’s my Sammy.” Dean can’t help but smile, at least until the camera turns to eight insurgents surrounding two bound and hooded soldiers. One of them has to be held up.  The other is just a little unsteady. “They’ve both obviously been shot, but the one who’s being held up looks like he was caught in some sort of explosion or fire. The uniform is in shreds on the left side, bleeding and maybe a little burnt. The hoods are taken off.

                           It takes a minute to recognize his baby brother with the blood covering the bruised and lacerated left side of his face. He barely looks conscious.

                           “ Recite name, rank.” the other one is shoved.

                           “Name. Rank. Serial number” The smart ass replies and gets hit in the face with a rifle. “Aaron Jacob Kine, First lieutenant. 867-5309” Another man shoves Sam as he gives an involuntary chuckle.

                           “Samuel Henry Winchester. Private second class. 1M-5280F” they can barely hear him. The other soldier seems both amused and worried. That’s not Sam’s rank. It hasn’t been for a long time. Does he even know where he is or what year it is? It doesn’t look like it. 

                           There’s some more arabic, a lengthy speil.

                           “Actually we were hunting Djinn, not you.” Aaron pipes up only to get half of them to come beat him.

                           “For crimes against Allah and man your lives are forfeit. But you will be allowed to say goodbye to your loved ones.” He points to Aaron.

                           “Dad, Beth, it’s okay. Shit happens. I love you. Mule, hey, Mule,” he looks over to Sam who turns his head towards him. “Looks like we’re getting off easy.” He motions his head towards the camera. Sam looks that way as well and gives a slight laugh, that ends when Aaron is beheaded.

                           “You,” Sam’s pulled up. “Say your goodbyes.”

                           “Mom, Dean. Jo. I’m sorry. I love you. It was worth it.” He gives a soft smile at the camera, then says something Arabic and spits on the shadow of the nearest insurgent. Before they can move to beat him just a little more before killing him, his body goes limp. Either he’s passed out, or dies. Immediately there’s some screaming in the distance. The cameras are knocked over and stomped on. 

                           Dean just looks at the fuzzy screen. There’s a part of him that screams the he wasn’t beheaded. He could have just passed out from the pain. There’s no proof that he actually died right then. But those injuries. His condition and what he knows happened. Djinn attacked. He might have been alive. He probably was. But if so they’d have taken him and fed off him in his last moments. Maybe he died on the way to their lair. There’s no way he survived those wounds without serious medical attention. If he did. If by some miracle he survived and  escaped the djinn and survived the way to civilization. They’d have found him. But even the farthest stretch of the imagination, the chance of everything going right… is nothing but a strand of hope so flimsy that he can’t lie to himself anymore.

                          Sam is dead. And the best he can hope or is that he just watched him die.

                          “What was that Sam said at the end in Arabic.” Dean asks, finally after ten minutes of staring at the screen.

                           “I should think you might prefer to remember his last words of being ones of love and pride.” The sheriff says gently as he looks down at the transcript in his hands.

                          “Just tell me.”

                          “You kill in the name of God, but your very existence proves that there isn’t one.” 

                          “Ouch.” Dean gives a weak grin. “That’s my little brother, alright. A defiant smart ass to the end. Can I see that?” he asks. The sheriff hands the papers to him and waits patiently for Dean to read it. “Oh, 1m- 5280f one mile five thousand two hundred eighty feet.”He laughs and of course his friend gave the phone number from that Tommy Tutone song.” Dean smiles. “Jesus. They must have been friends.”

                         “A lot of bodies were missing, not just your brothers. Some were just missing body parts. Hearts, pituitary glands, kidneys. It was strange. Your brother’s unit was sent to a bad place. A lot of soldiers on both sides ended up dead and desecrated in those ruins. Some disappeared completely. Some locals as well. I’m sorry no one gave you a better answer. I’m really sorry you had to see this.” The sheriff says gently.

                          “Can I have this?” Dean asks, holding up the transcript. “Mom needs to know, but I won’t put her through seeing him like that.” He motions to the tape.

                           “I understand. You can keep it. I do have to destroy the tape, though.”

                           “Thank you.” Dean rolls it up and gets to his feet.  “I needed to see that. It really means a lot to me that you went out of your way for me like this.” He accepts an awkward hug and back patting.

                           “Take another weeks to organize the funeral and let us know when and where, alright deputy?” The Sheriff smacks his upper arm as he lets go. “If you need anything. Just let us know.”

                            “Your endorsement when I run for Sheriff?” Dean forces a grin.

                            “Get out of here, you little brat.” The Sheriff grins right back giving him a light shove. Dean’s grin fades as he leaves the office and walks briskly to the car where Jo’s waiting.

                             The next visiting hours, he asks for a private space to talk to her, so they let him take her into the quiet room. He hands her the transcript and tells her he saw the tape. There’s no one to take revenge against. It was just war. No nightingale. Just human destruction. Thought he can tell her thoughts were in line with his. He was taken by Djinn most likely. If he wasn’t dean. Mary just sheds silent tears into her son’s shoulder, while he remains strong and composed. It isn’t after he makes love to his wife the next night that he finally breaks down and cries.

                            Mary comes home three days later with a mild antidepressant and sleeping pills that she takes until the prescriptions run out. When she sees Dean alone, she tells him that it was probably a hunting ground for a supernatural black market. According to the Campbells they tend to spring up in war zones where death is frequent and plentiful.

 

                            They notify everyone. His teachers and coaches. Dean’s church, they put a notice in the local paper, there was an announcement at the VFW. Marry sent word to Ellen and her new husband, Bobby Singer. They sent word to some of Mary’s hunter friends and relatives that her son Samuel who managed to be a hunter and a soldier at the same time, had died in combat, killed by insurgents that interrupted his unit’s hunt. That the insurgents were subsequently killed by the creatures being hunted was considered fairly appropriate by most of them.

                             Over a hundred people ended up coming to the funeral. They didn’t expect so many and had held it at the grave yard. Fortunately there are enough chairs for those who can’t stand for long periods of time. All oh John’s old war buddies showed up. Over a dozen hunters showed up. Ellen and Bobby brought letters from hunters that couldn’t make it. People Sam helped out in some way, usually while Mary was working came as well.

                             Stories were told. The hunter’s talked about what big fans they were of Sam’s table top rpg game, which lead to Mary’s discovery of it. He just used the ID Marys2ndSon and anyone who knew Mary, knew who it was. They even mentioned some kids who played the game that made their hunting trips a lot easier. Old soldiers talked about how Sam came and listened to their stories, wheeled them around, ran errands for them, helped some read and write letters and even shoveled as many sidewalks as he could get to.

                             Some soldier he had known and worked with showed up and talked about how he saved their lives, with very few details, but it became clear to Mary that the term, a crazy situation meant something supernatural. They told how he always managed to win over the locals just by listening intently to every crazy thing they said.  They talked about his terrible singing voice and his tattoos. They brought pictures of them. Apparently every place he went, he got a local flower tattooed on his back. Mary recognizes them as the flowers he pressed and sent to her. The last one showed his back was filled with them.

                              Everything they say makes Mary feel proud and happy, but at the same time even more depressed. The more she hears the more she feels like she never really knew her own son. With her, he was just a little boy who never wanted to let her go. Then a bigger boy chasing after is big brother.  Finally an older one chasing after his father’s ghost, the straight A student and track star who just spend all his free time in his room, sleeping and studying and doing chores. He was a grumpy little smart ass who never really seemed happy and never talked to her about anything. When she tried, he’d just clam up even more. When things were good, he was still silent, hanging out with her watching a movie, aside from a few sarcastic yet funny remarks at the screen. He was always proud of his accomplishments until someone would bring up something Dean did. But in the marines, finally out of his big brother’s shadow, he bloomed and flourished. 

                             It ends with everyone placing plastic flowers and letters and trinkets into the coffin as Mary requested, making her son’s empty resting place a time capsule of his life and accomplishments. Dean put the metal airplane Sam was always stealing from him when they were little. When it’s closed, the marines give him a twenty one gun salute. They wanted to put him in a special burial site,but Mary at least knew him well enough to know he’s want to be buried near his father. So she gave him her own plot and had her headstone put in the basement. She keeps the last picture shown to her of Sam showing off his flower tattoos. He’s smiling so widely in it.


	9. Ministering Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mule is rescued  
>  Mule falls in love  
>  Mule comes back

2009

             The dreams are what he remembers the most. He’d call them memories but he can’t tell anymore which is real and which isn’t. He dreamt of the car accident seventeen times. In eight of them he was driving, in nine of them Dean was. Some times Dean was drunk. Sometimes Mule was. Sometimes there was a deer. Sometimes there was a car. Sometimes he or Dean fell asleep driving and suddenly woke, startled and violently swerved. Sometimes they were woken by their brother. Four times one or both of them died. Once it was suicide, where Dean just got so drunk he forgot his brother was there.

              The fight on 9/11 played out several ways as well. Sometimes his mom called him a murderer and disowned him. Sometimes Dean did. Sometime Dean just said nothing and looked at him as if he was lower than dirt. Once he fought with his mother and stormed out and Dean followed him demanding he apologize to their mother and they fought and Mule hit him. One time Mule just walked away. 

                Some things he couldn’t remember from earlier in his life. Did Dean take him to where he wanted to go? Or did he just leave Mule alone at home as soon as their mother left, telling him not to burn the house down. Did they play games and sports together, or did Dean just tell him to get lost all the time. Did Dean ever like him or look at him affectionately or did he just think of his little brother as nothing more than a pain in the ass who got in the way.

                 There are moments he thinks he’s awake because of the pain, but when he hears her singing everything else just fades away. He remembers being fed broth and baby food. Water from a straw. Bandages being changed, his body being washed and the flicker and buzz of florescent lights. A cool wet cloth cooling his brow. A balm being gently applied to the side of his face. A hand over his mouth in the dark as thuds and low base tone boom through the cavern. Each moment is only seconds long, popping up in between dreams. Always with pain, though. Always the deep never ending pain.

 

                    The first time he sees her face, his entire body feels numb.

                    “Hey, there Army man.” She smiled as she changed a bandage on his side. Dirty golden curls. Golden skin. Golden eyes. A little sweaty, a little dirt or charcoal on her jaw. The most wonderful sight in the world and all he can say is.

                     “Marine.”

                     “Eh.” She shrugs, implying no difference between them. He feels a little offended for a moment. “Soldier, soldier, soldier.” She rolls her eyes and starts singing ‘The Boogey Woogey Bugle Boy from Company B’ as she goes around the room preparing equipment. “You have much shrapnel. Much problems. Little blood. I have tools,happy pills but no blood. You sleep, I help.” She brings him a pill and a drink with a straw. Mule tries to lift his arm to take it from her, but not only is he too weak but every movement he makes sends searing pain through his back and side. “Shhh. Shhhh.” She gently puts his arm down. “Don’t move.”So he lets her feed it to him and give him the pill. He drifts away into bliss as she cuts into his chest removing pieces of metal bit by bit.

                      It takes a long time of resting and healing between each operation so it heals and he can recover from the blood loss.  The worst is when she has to turn him over and work on his back.

                       “Beautiful.” She touches the uninjured portion of his back.

                       “Thank you.”

                       “It will be heartbreaking. Flowers and scars. The truest picture of war.” That moment is when he knows this woman is something special. Maybe even the moment he falls in love.

                        Days blur together nightmares followed by her gentle touch and her soft soothing voice, meals, pills, songs. The nightmares turn into dreams of her held in his arms calling his name in ecstacy. It’s only then he realizes that he never asked for her name.

                        “What’s your name?”

                        “Jibril.” She replied.

                        “That’s a boy’s name.” He feels stupid the moment he says it but she just shrugs.

                        “I was never what father wanted me to be. Call me Bree.”

                        “Samuel.”

                        “No, Bree.” She teases with that laughing glint in her eyes. He can’t help but laugh a little himself.

                         “I’m Samuel. But call me Mule.”

                         “Pleasure to meet you, Mule.”

                         “Pleasure to meet you, Bree.”

                         The more they talk, the better her english gets. When she listens she truly listens, stroking his hand absent mindedly. But mostly she tends to his wounds and more and more shrapnel, growing more beautiful by the day. When she finishes with his back, an infection sets it. It was pure luck that he’d made it this far without one.

                          In his delerium he can see them. Smith, Menendez, Hinaka and Aaron lounging around the table, drinking beer waiting for him to join them. The game is set up with their character sheets ready. The first thing he did when they were assigned to him, was set up a game. The new guys were always like ‘what the fuck’, but Aaron just smiled. They’d been in basic training together after all and playing a game of unambiguous morality, killing monsters was a good way for them to relax.

                           Not a few people in basic had stories to share of weird things that happened nearby or to a friend of a cousin. Aaron explained why he has a cross tattooed on his hand despite being incredibly jewish. He had dated this girl from an orthodox christian family who was going through a rebellious goth/devil worship phase. She invited him to a summoning ritual where she would offer herself up to the Fallen.

                           He went, figuring she’d do the ritual and hot kinky pagan sex would follow as she pretended to be possessed. There was a pentagram, candles, lambs blood, an upside down cross, the works. And she chanted something, used a fricking flash bang or something that sounded like lightening and blinded him breifly even though he got his eyes shut right away.

                         Rogers, who was really Chad Burkowitz, but Mule started calling him Steve Rogers because he was a scrawny blonde that wouldn’t shut up about brooklyn and it stuck. Even the drill sergeant started doing it. But Rogers said something smart. “This is the point when you ran away, right?”

                     But Aaron did not run away because the girl was super hot and he still thought he was going to get laid and have the most awesome ‘how I lost my virginity’ story to tell everyone. But his ‘fallen angel’ had other ideas. She held him down by the throat and decided to start peeling off his skin with her finger nails, starting with his chest. He freaked out of course and grabbed the nearest object, which was the upside down cross, making it right side up in the process, and smacked her across the face with it. He said you could see the smoke rising from her blistering skin and she let go of him grabbing at her face.

                      At that moment some hot blonde woman came up and pulled him out from under her and told him to run, which he finally did. He looked back once to see the blonde throwing water on the girl and chanting in latin and something bright flew out of her mouth only to be cut in half by some sort of knife or short sword in the process. The girl was so traumatized that she ended up being committed.

                      Everyone but Mule cried bullshit immediately and that’s when Aaron showed them the deep twin scars running down the center of his chest each the width of a fingernail. Just out of curiosity, Mule later showed him a picture of his mother and Aaron freaked out. Especially when Mule told him he’d heard her telling other hunters about that hunt.

                      It was kind of funny actually. Apparently when doing preparations, the girl had accidentally copied a large angel trap instead of the summoning circle. When she noticed her mistake, she just flipped the blanket over to do it right on the other side. So Mary was able to exorcise and kill the fallen angel without hurting the vessel in the process. The girl got a stern talking to, and started freaking out anyway. Especially on being told she was lucky she was actually a vessel or she’d have just exploded when the angel tried to come in.

                        It was nice being able to actually talk to someone for both of them. For the first time in his life, Mule had a best friend he could be completely honest with. He was never as good as Dean at pretending they were just a normal middle class family, though he often wished they really were. When Mule went to train for Special Forces Aaron did, too, and after his first assignment Mule got to request that Aaron join the team. Best decision he ever made. They saved each other’s asses so many times. 

                          They even planned on going out and being hunting partners when they were sick of the life of the soldier. But they kind of started feeling like maybe they were career soldiers. Mule because he felt he finally found a place where he fit. He had a purpose honoring the legacies of both him parents and had a family of people who liked and respected him. Aaron because as he said, Mule would never survive without him. When Mule got the news about his brothers wedding and the pregnancy, he decided not to re-enlist. Aaron decided not to re-enlist either.

                           Aaron was always laughing, making jokes, the brother he had always wished Dean could be. His last words were to Mule and made him laugh. He got to die hearing his best friends laughter, something he would have wanted. Now he’s gone. Those final moments replay themselves in his mind over and over again, even as his fever breaks. When things become clear he finds himself crying like a baby in Bree’s arms as she gently shushes and comforts him, saying everything will be alright. That she has him and will never let go.

                             She kisses the tears from his eyes and cleans off his face with her shirt. Little gentle compassionate kisses turn into big passionate ones which become her naked body on his as she makes him call out her name.

 

                             He’s not sure of the day, he tells her he loves her, that he’s loved her since she commented on his scars and tattoo. It takes her by surprise and for the first time she looks a little uncomfortable, but she just laughed at him, calling him a romantic. But he doesn’t let it get to him. He just tells her how beautiful she is, how kind, extolling her virtues, finishing with how for the first time in his life he believes in angels. The ones said to be all goodness and light. Because what else could she be if not an angel.  She laughed and kissed him, asking him if anyone had ever not fallen in love with those big hazel eyes and sweet passionate words, brushing aside his questions with more love making as he calls her his angel, his beautiful angel with the heavenly voice and divine touch even as she does some decidedly unangelic things to him. It’s not until later, when he’s floating on the remnants of ecstacy that she whispers his name in his ear. “Samuel, my Samuel. Of course, I love you.”

                           He doesn’t even know how much of his recovery they spend in each other’s arms. How much he spends in exhausted pain filled tears, and how long it takes for him to have the strength to get out of bed. His arm, his leg, his back refuse to work at first beyond small slow movements. Time doesn’t seem to exist in the cave they’re hiding in. When she leaves to get food and water and medicine. It’s impossible to know how long she’s gone. He’s left with bed pans he can barely use, some cans of food beside him and some pills for the pain. He goes through all of them before she comes back. Each and every time, no matter how many, he runs out before she comes back and suffers longing for her presence.

                           Sometimes, he thinks maybe they make him feel a little too good. Sometimes he thinks he’s taking a little too much. But it’s the only way to take away the pain at least enough to move and try to make himself strong enough to walk. It’s as if most of the strength has left his body. But however long it’s been is as long as his superiors haven’t heard from him and his mother hasn’t heard from him and his little niece or nephew is close to being born, or may already be born.

                           Part of him wonders if they even know he’s missing. Maybe they think he’s dead. They were filming maybe they all think he’s dead. He doubts it would Air on Al Jazeera, though. American soldiers laughing at them, defiant until the end. One of them seeming to die before he can even be beheaded. He was so sure he was dying. But he’d seen the Djinn in the background even though they didn’t. And he knew they were all going to die prolongued and possible painful deaths. Maybe they never even found the camera and video. Maybe they think he went AWOL.

                            He can half imagine his mother bursting into the cave, mad as hell, lecturing the hell out of him for joining the army as she brings him safely home, killing everything in her way, human or not. Like When Dean’s boy scout troop went missing in the state park. He had gotten them to safety in a massive downpour that lasted for days, even with a broken ankle. But it was a cave that they didn’t know how they got to or how to get back from. They had the sense to just stayed there until they were found. Mary raced back from the hunt and searched the woods for days until she found them.

                        But this isn’t a national park. This is in Iraq. And there’s no way someone with his mother’s record could get a passport much less get on a plane with that blade she refuse to part with. And he’s not Dean. But still…. He wouldn’t be surprised at all if she did.

                         His hair is what starts to worry him the most. It’s getting long. His beard is nice and trim, but she refuses to cut his hair more than a trim or completely shave his beard. She says he looks gorgeous. But it’s not regulation and it bothers him almost as much as his inability to walk. He has to get back. He has to send word. He needs a new uniform. But most of all he needs her.

                          It’s so hard to sleep without her beside him. It’s hard to be awake without the sound of her voice. The time crawls without her songs, her laughter, her body. So he just pushes himself harder and harder to make himself move and stand and walk until he can no longer bear the pain and lets the pills send him floating off on peaceful dreamless clouds or calm, as close to happiness as he can be.

                          “I think we can make it.” She finally says one day or night, he can never tell and there’s no clocks or anything to tell time. “It’ll take several days, but I think you can do it.

                           “You do?”

                           “I do.”

 

                           Much to Mule’s surprised instead of going out the front of the cave, she takes him farther in and town. They take tunnels and passages generally in the same direction, but he’s not always sure. He doesn’t know how long they’re taking, but he has to rest frequently when the pain gets to be too much and the pills put him to sleep. But when they finally leave the mountains in the early dawn sky, he can see a U.S. Army base a few miles below.

                          It takes an hour to walk towards the base close enough to see them and for them to notice him. The hot bright summer sun makes him feel nauseous. His head aches and he falls to his knees as a jeep approaches them.

                          “Hey Army guys!” Bree shouts, waving to them.” You lost something!” She announces happily. “I found your army guy!

                           “I’m a MARINE.” he corrects her with a frustrated tone that makes one of the men in the car smile.

                           “I’m sorry. I did the best I could, but he’s still not okay.” Bree informs them as they take him and put him in the back of the jeep. Bree sits beside him, holding his hand.

                           “Don’t worry, Marine. Well take care of you any ways.” One of the soldiers winks at him. “What’s your name?”

                           “Mule.”

                          When he gives them his information, his superior officers information and his mother’s, everything starts to move very fast. Before he’s even rehydrated, Captain Brown is there with several others.

                          “Good God in heaven, Winchester. How the hell are you still alive?”

                          “Hell if I know, sir, but the woman I came in with is responsible for what ever miracle took place, even if it took a while to do it.” he replies and proceeds to answer as many questions as he can. He doesn’t know what year month or day it is. He can’t quite remember if he’s a sergeant or a staff sargeant and is a little surprised when reminded he’s a First Sergeant. Alot of things are fuzzy. But not the deaths of his men, especially not Aaron Kine’s. Though he can’t remember what he was actually talking about with his last words to him. 

                       The x-rays are shocking. His whole left side still has shrapnel in so many places. How they managed to miss vital organs is miraculous. That he didn’t bleed out, another miracle. That they missed his eye, his spine for the most part,with only a few shards stuck in knobs of bone. It’s almost impossible to believe he would walk at all without absolute agony, or passing out. He’s thin and drawn, chronically dehydrated and malnourished, though so was Bree. He’s scarred in places that show a great deal of the shrapnel was actually removed. Bree had actually brought the jar of pieces she had removed from him. It’s more than are left inside him. He’s taken to a hospital in europe immediately.

                         When he wakes up after hours of surgery, he sees his mother holding his unscarred hand with both of hers. He gives her a broad smile and greets her.

                         “You’re too late. I’m not lost anymore.” Is all he gets out before he fades back out of consciousness. The smile stays on his face for several minutes.

 

                         “The news isn’t great. The muscles in the left side of his his arm, back, legs and torso are full of massive amounts of scar tissue. Physical therapy will help, but he’ll never regain full use of his limbs. His damaged memory might never recover either. When he’s given a medical discharge, he doesn’t even say anything. He just fills out the required paperwork. It’s 2011. He was gone for two years. It seems as if it takes forever for Bree to be allowed to see him.

                         When she’s brought into the hospital room, she looks a bit wary at Mary’s presence and looks to Mule.

                        “This is my mother, Mary. Mom, this is Bree, the woman who kept me alive and nursed me back to health, at least enough for me to get back.”

                         “Mrs. Winchester?” Bree smiles holding out her hand. “You have raised a truly wonderful son.” Mary stands up and walks over to her, ignoring the hand to give her a crushing hug and a kiss on the cheek.

                          “ Thank you.” Mary sounds as if she’s about to cry. “Thank you for giving me back my son. That you would do this for someone you didn’t even know… You have my eternal gratitude.”

                          “I just saw him and I thought of you, his mother.” Bree says quietly. “If I had left him there, then this man’s mother would lose her little boy. A hero’s death yes, with honor and grace and dignity full of righteousness. Most certainly going to heaven, but his mother would bury her son and the light would be taken from her world. I couldn’t let his life end this way. Then I got to know him and had no choice in the matter but to give everything I had to keep him alive.” It’s impossible for Mary to misinterpret the way the two of them are looking at each other.

                         “Mom, can I speak to Bree alone?” Mule asks. Mary’s reluctant to step out of the room and away from him, as if he’ll disappear when he leaves her sight.  But she does so anyway, watching through the window as her little Sammy takes Bree by the hand, looks into her eyes, asking her a question. Mary can’t see her reply, but the kiss they share is passionate enough that it was obviously yes. Unfortunately they don’t seem to be stopping at a kiss and their window shades are up, so Mary taps on the glass to remind them of their lack of privacy. Bree just gets up, gives her the thumbs up, and closes the blinds.


	10. Homecoming

2011

 

                The first thing that happens when Mule steps off the plane is that his brother shakes his hand and pulls him into a hug.

                “Welcome home, Sam.”

                “Thanks Deputy. Or is it Sheriff yet?” Mule ignores the spike of pain and gives a smile.

                “Still Deputy. But Sheriff Meyers will be retiring next year, and has promised to endorse me when I run for Sheriff. So that’ll happen soon.” Dean grins, “Jo’s in Lawrence getting your welcome home party together. Do you have your dress uniform?”

                “We have it.” Mary nods helping her baby boy to the nearest bench.

                “So where’s this woman I’ve been told so much about. Your ministering angel.” Dean looks around.

                “She’s not here yet. They’re working on getting her clearance to come to the united states. I wanted to wait for her but she threatened to break off the engagement if I didn’t go home immediately and start physical therapy.

                 “You’re engaged?” Dean frowns. “Isn’t that a little fast?” 

                 “You may be right. I mean I’ve only known her for two years where she pulled me back from the brink of death, keeping me alive and safe until we could make it back to the nearest military base. How much could we possibly know about each other?”

                  “Christ, Sam. There’s no need to be sarcastic.

                   “Yeah, I kind of think you had that coming, Dean Bean.” Their mother gives him a sympathetic look.

                   “No, I just mean… forget it. Let’s go back.”Dean escorts them to the parking spot where the impala is waiting. Mary can’t help but smile as she helps Mule into the front seat so he can stretch out his leg on the seat. “Seatbelts.” Dean reminds his brother as he gets in the passenger’s seat. Mule moves his arm to try to get it but he can’t so Mary helps him buckle himself in. 

                    What’s even more embarrassing is having to get help getting dressed. It was different when it was Bree. She knows how hard it is for him, how far he’s already come. She wasn’t constantly reassuring him how he’ll be able to do it himself in no time, or how physical therapy worked wonders for his brother, who hardly even had a limp anymore.It was just par for the course with Bree who’s joke about being better at taking off a man’s clothes, or pretending it was a reverse strip tease. 

                      At least he can shower on his own before they take him to the event hall where he’s enthusiastically welcomed and embraced heartily by everyone he even remembers knowing at all. He pretends it doesn’t hurt, but he does have to excuse himself to the bathroom so he can take some extra pain killers. It doesn’t matter. He’ll wait a little longer to take the next few doses, when he’s not doing anything so strenuous.

                     “You okay, Sammy?” Of course, Dean follows him in. Mule just nods and splashes some water on his face. “You don’t need to push yourself, you know. You can sit down, or even go take a nap in the car if you need.”

                       “I’m good, Dean. I can handle it.” Mule replies cooly and takes his crutch from the side of the wall.

                       “Alright. Just remember, you don’t have anything you need to prove to anyone, so take it easy.”

                       “Bite me, Dean.” Mule brushes past him and out the door.

 

                        He can’t sleep at night without her there, without her songs, without her touch. His heart longs to see her face and his body won’t give him much if any peace. When he doesn’t manage to sleep, the nightmares come back. He watches his men die over and over again. And when Aaron calls his name instead of grinning at Mule and cracking jokes, Aaron tells him that it’s all his fault and to burn in hell. Sometimes Mule burns.

                        Each and every time though, he wakes to find himself cradled in his mother’s arms. She’s always singing ‘Hey Jude’ which calms him down until he falls back asleep. Sometimes he just wakes to find an empty chair by his bedside and a breakfast sandwich and a note from his mom on his plate.

                        Jo takes him to his doctor’s appointment and physical therapy when his mother can’t. Dean does a few times and tries giving him advice. Listen to the trainer. Don’t push youself. Don’t slack off. Slow progress is still progress. It all just ends up irritating the twenty eight year old marine into just clenching his jaw and glaring silently out the window.

                        “I thought you were supposed to wait six hours until the next one.” Dean comments as he watches his brother take another couple pain killers. “Or did that change to two whenever.” Mule ignores him and wipes the sweat from his face with a towel before drinking some more water. “I know it hurts and all but really you should be taking them as prescribed, or less. I mean when I was in PT…”

                         “You had a dislocated hip,”Mule finishes for him “I was caught in an explosion and the entire left side of my body is riddled with scar tissue from shrapnel and burns making the little movement I can do excrutiatingly painful. So why don’t you shut the fuck up and go back to work. That sound okay to you, Deputy Dog?”

                          “I’m here to take you home, Sammy.”

                          “It’s Mule, and I’ll get a taxi.”

                          “With what money, Sam?” Dean snaps and immediately wishes he hadn’t. They’re still waiting for the matters of back pay and wrongly paid death benefits and insurance payouts to be settled. What he’s entitled to, what he owes. Then there’s the fact that he left almost everything to his mother and brother and doesn’t know how to bring it up. So right now he has absolutely nothing.

                           “I’ll walk then.” Mule says cooly, and grabs his bag, passing his brother as he walks haltingly out of the building.

                           “Mule, wait, you need to schedule your next appointments.” His trainer calls heading after him.

                           “I’m his brother, I’ll take care of that.” Dean puts his hand up. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch up with him.” And he does as Mule doesn’t even get a quarter mile before he has to rest. “Get in the car, Sam.” Dean says softly. Mule ignores him. “You’re not walking twenty six miles back to Lawrence.”

                            “Maybe not quickly.” Mule starts walking again.

                            “Get in the car, Sam.” Dean demands this time. He’s ignored again. “Get in the passenger’s seat of the damn car before I arrest you and put you in the back.”

                             “Excuse me?” Mule turns to face him. “Before you what?”

                             “Arrest you I mean there’s hitchhiking, jaywalking is inevitable, loitering, fairly sure you’re about to assault an officer of the law and if none of that flies, there’s always opioid abuse.”

                              “You mo…” Mule clenches his fist but holds himself back. “Sure, Dean. Arrest me. Put me in jail, file a report. Then go home and explain yourself to mom. Better yet I’ll call her when we get there. Have her come down to the station so everyone hears that little conversation.” His attempt to call his brother’s bluff actually succeeds and makes him reconsider.

                              “How long do you think it’ll take you? A day? Two? A couple hours hitch hiking? People don’t pick up hideously scarred giants from the side of the road, Sam. And how long before you hurt yourself? Do you want to end up back in the hospital?” Mule goes back to ignoring him and keeps walking. “How many of those pills you have on you, Sam?” Dean asks a little softer “ Twenty six miles worth?” Mule just stops walking and closes his eyes, refusing to say anything. Dean just reaches over and opens the door for him. They don’t say anything the rest of the way home.

                              When they get back to the house, Sam can’t help but look in the hallway mirror in the entryway. Most of the left side of his face and discolored with streaks and patches of scar tissue. It barely looks human. “Hideously scarred, that sounds about right.”

                                “Sammy…” he hears his brother at the door. “I didn’t mean..” he starts an apology. Mule just goes upstairs to his room, and lies down. What’s the point in staying awake?

 

                                “I’m worried, mom.” Dean says quietly as she tosses the rotisserie chicken in the microwave. “About Sam.”

                               “Oh?”

                               “I think he’s taking too many painkillers.”

                               “If it’s enough to kill the pain, it’s not too much.” replies the hunter who has not only been injured far more severely than her son ever was, but often had to rely on pills to keep going through a hunt.

                               “Yeah, but mom…”

                               “Dean. I love you and I know you love your little brother, but you don’t know what he’s been through and what he’s going through, mentally or physically. All he’s trying to do is make it through the day. Until the doctor says he should be able to move freely and without pain, then I don’t want you saying a damn thing to your brother about him taking his legally prescribed painkillers. If it’s actually becoming a problem, his doctors will notice it.  Understand?”

                                 “Yes, mom.” Dean sits down at the table. “We’ve also got to talk about the money, mom.” He rubs the back of his neck.

                                 “I know.” Mary leans against the counter. “God, I know. I’m … I’m going to have to take a mortgage out of the house again.”

                                   “Mom, no. Maybe he’ll let us pay him back on a monthly basis. We can give him what we were paying for the houses or something.

                                   “Dean, it was four hundred thousand dollars. I might not even live long enough to pay him back that way and it’s not fair to Sam. I don’t know. I could sell the house and have Joe buy me out of the garage, that’ll be a start.”

                                    “No, mom, don’t sell the house. First off because only two hundred thousand of that debt is yours. Jo and me we’ll sell ours and pay back our half and move in here and pay you rent. You’re going to start hunting full time when Sam’s all set and settled right? I don’t know.”

                                    “What’s going on?” Mule asks as he slowly enters the kitchen.

                                    “We’re just trying to work out how to get you back the money you left us.” Dean says bluntly.

                                    “Oh.” Mule sits down. “I figured it was all gone.”

                                    “I paid off the house with it and used the rest to expand the garage.” Mary looks down at her hands.

                                    “I thought the house was already paid off.”

                                    “Well, we had a rough spot a while ago and needed a lot of repairs on the garage and house and new equipment so I got another mortgage.” Mary explains.

                                    “We paid off our house, too, and helped Bobby and Ellen with the road house with the rest.They expanded it to ass a bunch of motel rooms. Bobby had sold his house and junkyard, but it was getting to be a little more expensive than they expected. They called it The Stable and put up a memorial to you on the wall right in the lobby.” Dean and Mary both smile at this. Mule just nods. 

                                      “We’re going to get you back your money, Sam.”

                                      “Don’t sell anything, though. And don’t get any loans or anything you’ll spend three hundred thousand to pay off two. I don’t know Just… I don’t want to talk about it. Really, I was mostly saving it for when and if I got married. When I got back I was going to pay for any necessary repairs and remodeling on the house and yard anyways, mom. Invest in the garage. Maybe go to college or trade school or something, work in the garage when you’re off hunting. Set up a college fun for my neice or nephew and save the rest for emergencies. You don’t owe me anything mom.”Mule gets up to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Just… when Bree gets here, can you let us stay here until we can get things together and get our own place?”

                                       “Of course, that woman is more than welcome for as long as you both need.” Mary gently embraces him. “Longer. When you get married, the house is yours. I don’t mind leaving you in charge at the garage so long as I can take up hunting full time. At least until there are grandkids to take care of.”

                                        “Thanks, mom.”

                                        “I guess that just leaves me and Jo.” Dean smiles, glad their mother won’t have to worry about that. “I don’t suppose you’ll let us off the hook.” He teases.

                                     “Oh, you’re paying me back.” Mule grins at him.

                                     “How about this, I give you five hundred a month directly and put a thousand in a special high interest savings account at my credit union for emergencies only. It’s… it’s a great bank. Plus I’ll pay for your wedding. And all this until I’ve paid you back the full two hundred thousand.”

                                   “Put it in writing and you have a deal. Just, you know, are you sure you can afford that on a policeman’s salary?” Mule teases. Dean just flips him off.


	11. Warning Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary tolerates her households new addition  
> Dean starts planning his campaign  
> Botherly bonding  
> Dean's night out with the coworkers.

2011

 

          Mary would love to say that Bree is a complete and utter delight, given how happy she’s made Sam since her arrival, but she’s not. She can admit to herself that a lot of it is probably because the two of them are such different people. For instance, Bree is a morning person. But largely the truth is that if this was just some girl Sam met at college, she’d absolutely hate her. Only partly because she’s Sam’s mother.

          It’s been five months and they’re still like newlyweds. Not to mention, she’s loud and talks dirty. Mary’s slept in the car more than a few nights just because she couldn’t deal with it. It’s almost like the woman wants Mary to know she’s screwing her son right that second in excrutiating detail.

           And she sings too. Lovely voice, charming accent, but she only seems to sing the songs Mary can’t stand, unless Sam’s there. She doesn’t clean up after herself. Bree clearly can’t stand Dean and will take Sam’s side to the point where she almost seems to be intentionally escalating things. The boys aren’t even speaking to each other for the most part.

           It’s only seeing her with Sam that makes Mary hold her tongue. She’s so kind, so loving and patient. She’s encouraged him to take mail order classes and maybe even become an accountant and be more involved with the garage. Sam might not have really died, but she seems to be bringing him back to life in every way. For that Mary can put up with anything. At least so long as she sound proofs her room.

            “This isn’t funny, Bree” Mary hears the door slam and puts down her beer. “Where is it?”

            “Something wrong?” She gets up and heads to the doorway.

            “Not now, mom.” Mule snaps and heads up the stairs, phone in his hand. “No you didn’t tell me. If you told me I wouldn’t be calling you asking where it is.” Mary slowly follows him upstairs to see him pulling out and frantically emptying drawers while still holding the phone to his ear. “That place where I keep the thing is not a helpful hint, Bree.” He empties out another one, before grabbing something and picks it up, pauses and shakes it. “This is empty.”

              “Sam-a-lam, is everything okay?” Mary asks. He looks positively frantic and his shirt is damp with sweat. “Are you okay?” but he ignores her.

               “I know that, but there should have been at least one more dose!” He crouches down on the floor, resting his head on the side of the dresser. “I don’t care… Yes, I’m sure. Okay. Yes, I see it.” He looks up to the little music box Bree brought with her. “Yes, I will. I promise. Okay.” He seems to calm down a little. “Promise? Okay. I love you, too.”

                 “Sam!” Mary speaks louder. “What’s going on?”

                 “Nothing, I just… I misplaced my pills that’s all.” He explains.

                 “I thought Dr, Philips weaned you off those.”

                 “No. I mean, yes, she was, but things got harder at PT and tylenol just wasn’t cutting it, so we decided to wait on that a little. I forgot to tell you. It’s okay though. Bree’s picking up my prescription on the way home.” He walks to the door and kisses her cheek. “I’m just.. I’m going to lie down and try and relax until she’s here. Okay?”

                 “Okay.” She nods and gets another kiss on the cheek.

                 “Later.” He closes the door and locks it.

 

                 “I’ve got to be honest with you, Dean.” The Sheriff looks at the papers in front of him. “Your wife and your mother are going to be problems. I mean, what do they do? Go around the country vandalizing graves and picking fights for kicks?” Dean gives a little laugh. “I’m serious, Winchester. The speeding tickets we can handle, but… what the hell?”

                 “Honestly you’d have to ask them. But the grave stuff was when they were younger so maybe it’s a sorority thing? I dunno.”

                 “Now your brother, the war hero. If he’d be willing to campaign for you that would definitely be a big plus.”

                  “I don’t think that’s going to happen. The last conversation we had ended with my telling him that just because I was paying for his wedding didn’t mean I was going to be attending it. And him asking why I even thought I’d be invited.”

                   “Well, I guess you’ll have to campaign on your charm and personal record alone.”

                   “If it’s meant to be” Dean shrugs and goes to get some coffee.

                   “Things are that bad, though?”

                   “Yeah. I’m just so… worried about him. He seems to be doing okay for the most part. He’s working with Mom at the garage, going to physical therapy. Taking a few online classes. It’s hard on him, but he’s handling it okay. It’s just… I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s not right. I was worried about his pills but the doctor weaned him off of them so he just takes extra strength tylenol now.

                     “He spends all his spare time with his fiancee, which is expected. I mean they love each other, right? They’ve been through alot together. She seems so good for him, but it’s… I can’t like her. She just seems off somehow, you know. There’s no good reason for it, but my gut just keeps telling me she’s bad news. I dunno, maybe it’s just because she doesn’t like me either.” Dean smooths back his hair and laughs. “Doesn’t like… she outright hates me.”

                      “Well of course, you’re fighting with your brother, the man she loves. She’s going to take his side.”

                      “No, it’s not like that. Not like ‘oh my honey bun is upset and you made him upset , you ass’. It’s more like the look you might give someone who murdered your parents and fucked your gerbil to death right in front of you as a small child.”

                      “The hell?”

                      “Pardon my french, but the first time we met, the look she gave me was just pure hatred. The Devil looking at St Michael hatred.”

                      “Lets stick with that metaphor.” The sheriff takes a drink of his coffee. “And try not to get too creative on the campaign trail.”

                      “It was the kind of look that makes you check that you have your body armor. She’s kind of afraid of mom I think, but if I woke to finding her stabbing me to death, I’d think, yep, that seems about right.” Dean unconsciously takes hold of his saints medallion. “It’s not all the time either. Mostly it’s just dislike, which I can handle. But I just… I must be losing my mind. Mom likes her, Sam loves her, even Jo thinks she’s a hoot. She saved Sam’s life for christ sake. My brother wouldn’t even be here today if it wasn’t for her. She nursed him back to health and protected him for two years with next to nothing. And here I am stuck on a nasty look and a gut feeling telling me something’s deeply wrong with her, with Sam, with the whole situation.”

                       “Look, kid”The sheriff shifts in his seat to lean forwards, “You went through hell a few years back. What with Sam, your mom, the baby, and now things are going well, miraculously well and it’s making you uncomfortable.  Your feeling guilty because you gave up on him when any sane person would have. We both saw the same thing. His survival was one in a trillion chance, an outright miracle. When he comes home, he was faltering and suffering and there was nothing you can do. Then she shows up and rescues him again. Maybe she hates you, maybe you just think she should. I dunno I’m not a therapist. Hell, I’m an only child with two ex wives, a third on the way. What do I know about this relationship crap.” He shrugs.

                       “What doesn’t work can be good to know too, Sheriff.” Dean takes a tin out of his desk drawer and offers him a chocolate chip biscotti.

                       “Don’t mind if I do.” The Sheriff takes one. “Well, whatever your wife gets up to in her travels, she sure can cook.”

                       “Actually, she can’t. I’m the cook.” Dean finally confesses.

                       “You do?”

                       “Yeah, I pretend it’s her, doing it all for the parties and bake sales and all, but it’s me. Mostly because I’m embarrassed, but if you were thinking of us extolling her domestic virtues…” Dean apologizes.

                        “Yes, I see the problem. Let’s just keep the campaign focused on you.” The Sheriff dips it in his remaining coffee.

                         “I still don’t know what to do about Sam.”

                         “Well, let me give you some advice about what not to do. Don’t go at this like a policeman. Don’t hunt and investigate and interrogate or overanalyze and suspect. You can’t do that in a relationship. You can’t turn your loved one into a criminal or the relationship is over no matter what you find. You may be right. You have fantastic instincts. Hell, your gut was even right about him being alive. But your brother’s not a suspect who needs to be caught or exonerated. He’s your brother and he needs you to be his brother, because if something is wrong, and he’s really needs help, he’s not going to go to the Deputy Sheriff, but he might go to his big brother.” The Sheriff points the last bit of biscotti at him before finishing it off.

                          “Honestly, I don’t think he likes me much better than she does now.”Dean slumps back in his chair.

                          “Maybe, but I bet he still loves you. Now give me another one of those biscotti.”

  
  


                          It takes about four rings before the door opens. His brother looks exhausted, pale and not too happy to see him. 

                          “What do you want that involves you ringing the damn door bell instead of just walking in like you own the place the way you always do. And did you have to wake me up so damn early?” Dean starts to point out that it’s one in the afternoon, but decides not to. He’s not fighting with Sam today, no matter what.

                          “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you, I just, thought maybe we could share a beer and order some pizza or something.”Dean holds up a small carton of beer bottles. “Mule starts rubbing his eyes and stares at him blankly.

                          “You want to what?”

                        “Beer, pizza, maybe a movie.”

                        “O-okay.” Mule steps back and holds the door open. “Let me take a shower real quick. I set mom up with Netflix and Hulu, though she refused Amazon Prime. You can probably find something on there.”

                          “I have Prime. Though I was thinking maybe we could watch a couple marvel movies. Starting with Iron Man, ending with Captain America.”

                           “Can we watch Thor in between the iron man movies?”

                           “Sure.” Dean goes to the kitchen and takes out the menu. Should he get some wings, too? He might as well go for broke and get a feast so they can pig out to their hearts content before before the girls come back from whatever they’re doing. Jo said something about an expo today, but he can’t quite remember. It just takes a minute or two for Dean to pull up the movies and get settled on the couch with a remote before Mule comes back down in loose shorts and wet hair.

                            “You don’t mind, do you?” Mule asks hesitantly. “It’s kind of hot and mom won’t turn on the air conditioner until it hits ninety.”

                             “No, it’s fine.” Dean keeps his face neutral. The scars are still hard to look at. They still break his heart every time he sees them. He’s sort of gotten used to them but Sam;s starting to look as emaciated as he did when he came here again. He was starting to put on weight, but not anymore. “Wait a minute.” he grabs the waist of his brother’s shorts as he passes as he scoots by him. “Is that Elmer Fudd?”

                             “Yes.” Mule sighs

                             “Can I see the whole thing?”

                             “Fine.” Mule pulls down his shorts and boxers a little on the center left side to reveal an only slightly marred tattoo of Elmer Fudd with rifle, stalking through the forest, only without the forest. Dean starts to laugh.

                              “Are you fucking serious? What did you lose a bet?”

                              “No, the boys and I got drunk on leave and I’m not sure how but we ended up making him our team mascot and we call got it tattooed somewhere on our bodies. I think I was out by the time it got to my turn so of course, Aaron had them put it right on my ass. He was going to have him put bugs bunny on the other cheek but he ran out of money. God he was such an asshole.” Mule gives a bitter smile and readjusts his clothing.

                               “And of course, the obligatory eagle and shield tattoo.” Dean pokes him on the upper right arm. Mule just nods.

                                “You and this Aaron guy were close huh? Besties?”

                                “Brothers.” Mule says quietly. Dean just pats his leg and hands him a beer.

                                “To Aaron.” Dean lifts his open bottle.

                                “To Aaron.” Mule’s smile is a bit more genuine and lifts his bottle as well.” He’s either causing trouble in heaven or taking over hell with the rest of the boys.”

                                 “Amen.” they click bottles and drink. 

                                  “I’d pour some out for him but he still owes me a case of lager. Broken not stolen.” Mule informs Dean. “It was stupid, you know. Bad luck. Bad timing. Faulty information. Sheer numbers… I have him from the blast just to see him beheaded. But it’s okay. It’s okay. We all knew that eventually we wouldn’t make him home from a mission. We didn’t think it’d be humans taking us out, though. It could have been worse. They could have died much worse.”

                                “You know, them being in heaven or having an easy death or a good life or all that bullshit people tell us to make us feel better, doesn’t mean you’re not still allowed to hurt or be upset because they’re gone, right? Because there’s still a hole that can’t be filled and things that can’t be replaced. Something importants been ripped out of your life and you’re left alive to suffer that gaping wound. I don’t know, I can’t tell you how long it takes before the pain goes away, I just know it sure as hell takes longer than two years. Anyways, anytime you want to talk about him and the rest of them, I’d love to hear it.” Dean just looks awkwardly down at the bottle.

                                “Okay.” Mule smiles at his brother.  There’s an uncomfortable silence between them, where neither of them knows what else to say, but feel they should.

                                “Oh thank God.” Dean gets up as the doorbell rings and goes to get the pizza. “A little help Sam?” He calls from the doorway.

                                “What the fuck…”Sam comes out and goes to take the pile of pizza’s and boxes from his brother.

                                 “No, get the rest.” Dean manages to carry it into the living room, setting them down on the coffee table while Sam gets the bags of soda and other sides.

                                 “Went a little overboard, did we?”

                                 “Maybe, it’s been a while, though.” Dean confesses. “Beside’s when’s the last time you and I just had a pizza feast like this?”

                                  “Not since you joined the wrestling team. I’m surprised you didn’t order a… salad.” Sam flips open a pizza box. “Seriously, Dean?”

                                  “What I like veggie pizza. Relax I got you meat l-oh shit!” Dean quickly grabs some napkins as Mule covers his nose with his hand. “I got you, SAmmy.” He presses them to his little brother’s nose. “No, no, keep your head bent forwards. Don’t lean back. New rule so you don’t choke on your own blood.”

                                    “I got it. I’ve got it, Dean.” Mule elbows his hand away.

                                    “Son of a bitch, did you have bleed on my pizza?”

                                    “Sorry. Next time I start spontaneously gushing blood, I’ll try to do it somewhere more convenient for you.”

                                     “That would be very much appreciated.” Dean grabs the two slices with blood on them and tosses them in one of the paper bag the sides were in.

                                      “Just shut up and turn on the movie.”

 

                                      “You’ve been in a good mood, today.” Allen mentions as Dean and a few guys from work head into the bar.

                                      “Yeah, my brother and I hung out yesterday after church. We had pizza, watched a movie, exchanged stories. I’m actually going to start teaching him to cook tomorrow evening. He’s staying late to go through the books at the garage tonight. Someone screwed up somewhere because it looks like there should be more money in the bank than there is. Or at least Joe, Ralph’s son, thinks so.” He shrugs “Honestly it’s probably mom. She hasn’t been sleeping well and probably double recorded a few thing. She is not good with computers.”

                               “The usual?” The waitress asks.

                               “Yes, please.” Dean smiles at her.

                               “I only ever see you at church.”Wallace mentions. “I can’t even remember seeing your mom or wife or even your brother.”

                               “They’ve been to church, occasionally. But they’re just not that religious. Superstitious yes but not religious.” Dean shrugs it off, as if it’s not important.

                               “Yeah, but your brother’s a soldier. What’s that saying, There are no atheists in foxholes? He should at least be going.”

                    “Sometimes people are just faced with so much darkness they can’t believe there is a light.” Gina, their resident philospher takes a breadstick.  “The real question isn’t why his family doesn’t go to church, but why does Winchester?”

                                 “Because I look at the brilliant lights of those facing the darkness and see the face of God.”

                                  “Amen, brother.” Gina holds up a fist. He bumps it with own and takes a drink of water.

                                  “What?”

                                  “Good people, Wallace. The existence of good people is why I believe in God and go to church.” He says, a partial truth but enough.

                                   “Getting a head start on that campaigning stuff, are we?” Allen grins.

                                   “Oh my god, Campaigning. Last time I campaigned for anything was for prom queen in high school because of a bet.” Dean shakes his head.

                                    “Jesus Christ, Winchester!”Exclaims Wallace who’s not originally from around here. “You know they’re going to bring that up.”

                                    “What would be the point? Everybody already knows about it. That whole prom is infamous.”Allen shrugs it off, then snickers at the memory.

                                    “ Yeah, I admit the whole thing spun wildly out of control.”Dean confesses, 

                                     “Out of control? He convinced the wrestling team to run, too. His girlfriend ran for prom king as did half the cheerleaders and someone ended up petitioning for the whole prom to be gender flip and succeeded. The boys who were more secure in their masculinity wore make up, got prom hair, fancy prom dresses, shoes, the works. The girls all wore tuxedos and low pony tails a bought the corsages. A fair amount of fathers were thrilled at the money they were saving. Well not everyone did it, it wasn’t mandatory, but enough people did it to make it a theme.”

                                    “I won, too.”Dean grins.”But Lydia unfortunately did not win prom king. Evelyn Cartwright did. She made a much more handsome man than Lydia.”

                                    “Yeah, she was surprisingly handsome. She went all the way. She went to a barber, did breast binding, wore her track clothes during campaigning, stopped shaving what women should be shaving. Everyone who campaigned did so in drag for the rest of the school year. It was great.” Gina laughs.

                                     “Girls actually fought over helping Dean with his makeup.  You went a little too far with the panties, though.” Allen scolds him.                         

                                      “Hey, that was only for the mini skirt.”

                           “And why may I ask, were you looking, Allen?” Gina looks pointedly over at him, as the waitress passes out their beers.

                            “Because I didn’t know it was him! I just saw some cute girl in a mini skirt bending over to get a drink from the water fountain and holy shit, it’s actually Dean.”

                            “The coach started calling me Achilles.” Dean snickers, lifting his beer. They all just look at him confused. “You know, Achilles, from the Illiad? Liked to dress in drag and no one could tell. Went berzerk when the trojans killed his boyfriend Hephaestus? C’mon it’s classic greek literature.”

                             “Yeah we’re not, and definitely did not expect you to be a student of greek literature.” Simmons finally has something to add to the conversation.

                             “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.” Dean lifts his glass. “I honestly only remember the funny stuff like when one philosopher defined man as a featherless biped and another one brought in a plucked chicken to his lecture and yelled, behold a man!” They all just stare at him again, though Gina laughs. “Ah, Never mind.”

                              “Okay, so definitely show a lot more of Dean Winchester college graduate, and less Dean Winchester, Prom Queen when you’re campaigning.” Simmons suggests, motioning at Dean’s face as he does so.

                                “I’ll keep that in mind.”

                                “There is no way anyone is going to elect you sheriff, Winchester.” Wallace just shakes his head. “No way.”

                                “Wanna bet?”


	12. A Vote for Winchester is a Vote for Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a bad day at work  
> Mule in trouble and stays in trouble  
> Dean does his best.

2011

            There turns out to be a lot more to do for the campaign than he expected. There’s even a photo shoot. Local newspaper interviews, senior center appearances, a local news station, dinners with the movers and shakers, potlucks at churches,fairs. All on his days off, or after work. His opponent’s a former cop turned prosecutor and a ‘reform’ candidate. They were about even in the polls when the smear campaign started.

              First, of course, the whole Prom Queen issue came up. But everybody knew about that already, and it became an inside joke when he showed up to a dinner wearing his crown and prom queen sash. That didn’t do him any harm. It was just something dumb he did as a kid. When he apologized for treating gender and gender identity as a joke or entertainment and wished he’d been a lot more informed and mature about it at the time, he actually gained support.

              They dragged his wife and mother into it as Sheriff Meyers has said they would. They asked, how can Dean Winchester control crime when he can’t control his own family? He pointed out that law enforcement’s job is not to control people’s actions, but to apprehend suspected law breakers and bring them to the courts who will decide their guilts and innocence. And neither is it a man’s job to control his wife, much less his mother, but to love and cherish them despite their shortcomings..

                The next attack, much to his surprise, was a picture from his bartending days in college. At a strip club on ladies night, probably due to the slender manicured, polished hands in the pictures waving money at him, and of course because of the tuxedo themed cuffs and shorts.. Sheriff Meyers was a little pissed at not being warned about this one, but Dean didn’t know that anyone actually took pictures, as that wasn’t allowed at all. They got a little boost from female voters after that went out. After all, he explained that he was in college, and really needed a lot of money in a short amount of time since he had to study a lot since he wasn’t a genius like his baby brother, especially after he lost his wrestling scholarship due to his hip injury that last year of school. And it kept him from being a financial burden on his mother. Since he was a charming white man, for the most part he got sympathy instead of scorn.

                  The worst most painful ad he had to endure from his opponent was the most innocuous one. A picture of Fred Weams, with his June Cleaver wife, two children and a dog that simply said ‘Fred Weams, a Family Man’. It might not have been meant the way it came across after so many attack ads before it, but it came across as a vicious instead of just in poor taste. Someone on his staff had failed to inform him that the Winchesters had a miscarriage and  now can’t have children. So it backfired completely and utterly.

                  Dean made absolutely no reply to that, he didn’t have to. He just had to suffer over and over again the reminders of it not just from the ads but the people coming up to them telling him what poor taste the ads were and well meaning consolation and sympathy from the few people who hadn’t already known about it. After all there are few secrets in a small town.

                   He was slightly surprised though when several charities decided to give her appreciation awards for all her work with them. Apparently she’d been spending most of her time between hunts volunteering or assisting the elderly in the area. He knew she kept busy with that stuff, but not quite to that extent. She handled questions about her arrests with grace and aplomb, saying that she’s glad to have a supportive husband who’d rather have a wife in trouble for assault than dead, raped or brutalized. His mother just looked at the questioner until they went away. She made a few comments to her eldest the she thought he was running for Sheriff, not President. Bree in the nicest mean thing she ever said about him, explained that there was only so much media coverage because he’s so beautiful and had that prom queen charm, when he wants to.

                                   The worst part about campaigning, though, is how little time he has left to spend with his brother. They just started getting along, too. Now he’s busy all the time and Sam’s just been getting more distant. He quit working at the garage after an argument with Joe, Ralph’s son about the books. Whenever Dean does manage to get over to his mother’s, his brother’s always sleeping or out somewhere with Bree.  Sam seems to be arguing a lot with their mother. She told Dean not to worry about it, but he still does.

                                       He leaves a list of therapists and psychiatrists that specialize in ptsd and resources from the VA. He even asks an old friend of his brother’s that he still sees every now and then to try to convince Sam to make an appointment. All he gets for his troubles is a few angry phone call from Sam, telling him to butt out and stop trying to control his life and a few other things he’s not sure where his brother got them from. Maybe he’s just sleep deprived or stressed out with physical therapy and the lack of progress he’s making. 

                                        Maybe Sam just needs to take a break from everything and relax. Dean has vacation time saved up, maybe he’ll clear out a week and take Sam fishing in early october. Some quiet peaceful time along together, drinking a beer, away from all their problems, away from that smart mouth she-devil he’s engaged to. Sam could probably use a little break from their mother as well. Maybe Dean can help him put on a little weight.

                                       “Hey, Winchester.” The Sheriff comes out of his office. “We’ve got a call, a tip about a possible drug den on the county line. If you don’t mind some overtime, someone heard some screaming and the responding officer called for backup before going in.

                                        “Alright. Did you already call for ambulances?”

                                        “They’ll meet us out there, quietly.” The Sheriff nods as they head to the car. “So,” he continues as they get in. “How are things at home?”

                                         “Alright. Sam’s been sick with the flu the last few days. He’s caught it a couple times these past few months,but it’s never really lasted that long. Mom’s trying to get him to see a doctor but he’s being stubborn and just insists on resting. Bree is being no help at all. Whatever he wants or decides she just eggs him on whether it’s good for him or not. I mean being supportive is one thing. Being the devil on his shoulder is another.”

                                          “Yeah, well, I wish my wives had been like that.” The Sheriff comments. “Any news on the wedding?”

                                          “They’ve decided on a Thanksgiving wedding.  Mom wants them to get married in a church, but they’re flat out refusing to. Apparently his time in the marines left him with a bad taste in his mouth for religion of any sort.  Mom’s all stressed out. Jo ends up , caught in the middle of things, and nothing’s going as planned. Honestly, I’m starting to wish I hadn’t decided to run for Sheriff this year. Maybe if I was more available for Sam things wouldn’t be this bad. If I just tried to get closer to Sam instead…”

                                           “Maybe, maybe not. You’re doing your best, Dean. That’s all you can do. If you want to pull out of the race and focus on your family, I don’t blame you. But I wish you wouldn’t. It’ll be over soon and I’d rather have you as Sheriff than Weams. Once the elections over you’ll have some more of your time for your family.”

                                            “True.” Dean sighs and just sits in silence as they arrive at the place.  In truth he’ll be glad of the distraction of today’s arrests. It might be dangerous, but nothing he can’t handle. Hopefully most people in there will be too wasted to be be trouble and not so wasted they’ll cause more trouble. Hopefully the dealers will just try to run. Hopefully no one will get shot. Hopefully things will go smoothly. He takes hold of his amulet and sends a prayer up to St. Michael for himself and his colleagues and waits to follow the Sheriff into the house.

                                              There are several cars, a few motorcycles parked in the front on a large gravel driveway. Something there grabs at his attention, but it’s pulled away as they get in position for the raid. It actually goes miraculously smoothly. Everyone down stairs does as they were told and so far there’s no resistance. The dealers are caught trying to sneak out the back, and so far most of the rooms upstairs are empty. The last one, though, the last one is locked.

                                            He opens his mouth to call to whoever’s inside and hears laughter, sweet laughter edged with the tinkling of bells that makes his spine run cold. He wants to run. He knows he should run, but if anyone is in there, they need help. He just steels himself and kicks the door open. At first his mind won’t let him process what he’s seeing. A scarred emaciated body, half on an old dirty mattress, half on the floor. A needle still stuck in his arms. In all of two seconds his eyes focus again.

                                            “Sam?” he barely manages to croak out. There’s no movement at all. He can’t even see him breathing. “SAMMY!”

 

                                        Dean just sits there in the chair next to the hospital bed, staring at nothing. He called their mom and let her know that Sam’s in the hospital, heroin overdose. But he’s going to be alright and to call Jo when she gets the message. It’ll be a while before their mom can get back anyways. She’s up in Maine. Another hunter had called earlier in the week and said he thought he was on the trail of one of the Fallen. She always goes if there’s Fallen involved, even just a suspicion of one. So she won’t be back for a few days at least. But it doesn’t matter, he can’t have visitors yet anyway.

                                      “Bree?” Of course the first word out of his mouth is asking for that bitch.

                                      “Not even close.” Dean replies, not wanting to look at him yet.

                                       “Where’s Bree?”

                                       “I don’t know I left her a message and sent her a text telling her you were in here. She’ll probably come when she gets it. Mom was still in Maine but she’s on her way  back.

                                       “Did.. did you handcuff me to the bed?”

                                       “Yes, Sam.”

                                       “Am I under arrest?”

                                       “Yes, Sam.” Dean closes his eyes. “If you fucking dare ask me why I’m going to punch you in the face.” There’s a moment of silence.

                                      “So, are you here as my brother Dean, or Deputy Sheriff Winchester?”

                                      “Both.”

                                      “So do I get the lecture before or after you read me my rights?”

                                      “You’re going to prison, Sam. I’ll get you a lawyer but you’re not getting out of this without prison time.”

                                       “Dean…”

                                        “We found you overdosed on heroin in a raid on a drug den with five grams of cocaine in your pocket!”

                                        “Dean…”

                                        “You almost died! If we hadn’t been there. If we hadn’t been tipped off, hell if we’d come five minutes later you would be DEAD. Do you understand me? Do you? DO YOU!”

                                        “Yes, Dean. I understand.”

                                         “ Is that how you wanted to die? Alone on the floor of a flop house?Is that how you want to be remembered? As a Goddamn Junkie?” 

                                          “I don’t care.”

                                          “Oh? You don’t care. What about mom? She cares. I care. Dozens of people care. And what about Bree, huh? Do you think she spent two years saving your life, nursing you back to health as best she could just to watch you kill yourself with illegal drugs? Did you think about how she’d feel? Did you? Well did you?”

                                            “Dean, I’m sorry…”

                                            “Don’t.”

                                            “I tried to quit…”

                                            “Don’t… don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear it. And you shouldn’t be saying it to me. I’m the deputy sheriff. I will be testifying against you if I have to.”

                                            “Well, I don’t recall being mirandized so you can’t..”

                                             “You have the right to remain silent.”

                                             “Dean!”

                                             “ Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

                                            “Dean, will you please just listen to me?”

                                             “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights do you still wish to speak with me?” Dean finishes. Sam doesn’t say anything. “Alright. Now be quiet and get some rest. I’ll get you a lawyer in the morning.”

 

                                           The lawyer turns out to be amazing. She and the prosecutor manage to work out a plea deal. Five years probation contingent on his completing rehab and regularly attending NA meetings if he pleads guilty for possession. Dean manages to convince his mother’s partner at the garage not to press charges so long as the missing money was returned or paid back. The new accountant, as far as he could figure, says that at least three thousand dollars had been stolen. Dean quickly withdraws that amount from the emergency fund he’s keeping for Sam. The judge they’d be going before was once a marine himself, so they’re certain everything will go smoothly. Dean even has a great rehab center ready to take Sam in one the sentencing is over.

                        Unfortunately, the judge being a marine, decides to come down hard on a fellow marine instead of easy. He informs Mule that he has disgraced himself, disgraced his family, and disgraced the Marine Corps. He rejects the plea deal and sentences Mule to five years in prison, eligible for parole in two and a half, and he should be grateful for the opportunity to reflect on his life and better himself. He further declares that if he ever sees Mule in his courtroom again, he would be giving him the maximum penalty for any crime he committed.

                        Mule doesn’t say much of anything. He doesn’t say much to his lawyer, to his mother, to his sister in law and especially not to his brother. He just asks about Bree. When he’d gone through withdrawal at the hospital, he would sometimes call for her, pleading for more heroin. When they go to visit him in the prison, he asks about her again and just leaves when they say they still haven’t heard from her. Finally Dean loses his temper and tells him that Bree is gone, that she’s abandoned him and isn’t coming back, so he needs to deal with that and maybe be grateful for the people in his life that did love and care for him and were coming to see him. Mule just stops accepting calls and visitors entirely.

                          He tries to keep clean. He really does. But the pain is just too much. The first beating he gets is when he breaks the TV. The local news channel is reporting the outcomes of the recent elections. It was reported that Dean Winchester had won by a landslide. Apparently both the fact that he arrested his own brother and was visibly torn by it, had won him such an outpouring of support his opponent had no chance.

                            One reporter called it cold and asked why he didn’t just send his brother to rehab. It was when the first reporter disagreed and said it showed an admirable amount of integrity that Mule lost it and obliterated the television with his bare hands. The riot that followed ended up with him in the hospital for a few days, then straight to solitary for a several days.

                              Dean bought the prison two brand new 60 inch screen tvs, one for the guards break room, one for the inmates. He also put about fifty dollars in the commissary of each prisoner involved in the riot ‘with apologies from Sam Winchester.’ When Mule gets out, he finds himself a lot more tolerated than he expected. When he finds out what his brother did, he is not grateful. 

                            The next time he ends up in solitary is when he refused to join a white supremacy group. Since there were only six of them when he was jumped, he only got a few bruises. The rest of them didn’t fare so well as he wasn’t in the best of moods to begin with. One almost died. He got two weeks in solitary for that one.

                             Most people give him a wide berth and not a little respect, not just for his fighting skills but because he was a marine. But there’s always some guy, either either a transfer or a new guy determined to make a name for himself, or someone trying to get even with Sheriff Winchester by killing his brother. So the fights continued and so did solitary.  No matter what his injuries he’s never given anything stronger than over the counter Midol. So he gives in and uses his contacts to get him some oxycontin.

                                 Fortunately every month like clock work Dean would deposit enough to his commissary so that Mule’s balance was five hundred dollars. He sent him a letter informing him that whatever was left from the five hundred dollars a month after refilling his commissary would be put in a savings account for when he got out.  Mule is not grateful. But he makes it work. The oxy lets him stay alert, exercise and sleep better. On the other hand it makes solitary a living hell when he goes through withdrawal again. Especially as he realizes that parole was not likely to happen. 

                                 There are no charges pressed against him for all the fights he’s in. It’s clearly self defense, and most of the guards liked him immensely.  After all he treated them all politely and with respect. But most importantly no matter what, he always came to the guards defense, helping protect him from the inmates, and the inmates from royally screwing themselves by assaulting the guards. They even asked him about his service in the marines. He decided to answer truthfully, and let them assume he was joking, because as special forces he wouldn’t be allowed to talk about it. He never talked about the last one, and when asked about his scars only said he got them from throwing himself over a friend to protect him from a bomb.  

                                 Dean keeps petitioning for his brother to be put in protective custody, but it’s repeatedly denied. Mule continues to fight for his life and spends a lot of time in solitary. Sometimes the guards he’s friendly with slip him a book along with the meal. They’re never thick, but often of decently complicated subjects so he’s able to keep his mind sharp and focused and kept from going insane alone in the room. They double tap the cell when their last shift comes before he’s released to let him know to return it with the tray. If they don’t or can’t it doesn’t matter too much. He’s not frisked on leaving solitary anyway.

                                  After two years of waiting he finally accepts that Bree is just gone. She left him and abandoned him, probably because of his addiction. He pretends not to care, but the thought is what finally gets him to go to the offered NA meeting once he’s back in gen pop. He reads and brushes up on his spanish. He reads about addiction.  He tries to quit a few times more, but it’s always too much. After all what is there really left to quit for? What was the point of anything? What does he even really have to live for anymore? A few times he thinks that he’dll just let the next person who tried to kill him just do it, but instinct always kicks in.

                                  One of the new guards, who doesn’t know him yet, for some reason despite all his scars, takes a liking to him. He points out to Mule that he has the opportunity to have things made very easy for him, but he also could make things incredibly hard on himself. The guard could help him get parole, protect him. Mule just stays quiet and doesn’t do anything but keep his back to the wall. He knows better that to attack a guard for any reason and expect anything good to come out of it. It would be easier just to submit, but he doesn’t have that in him. His refusal to comply gets him the worst beating he ever has in prison, when he’s barely conscious the guard takes what he wanted anyways while the other stands watch. He has his partner punch him in the face to explain the beating he gives Mule.

                                    The nurse upon seeing the guard’s single black eye and Mule’s severe injuries, doesn’t buy it when they say Mule attacked them. She’s seen people who picked fights with Mule, strong people, hardened criminals. And there’s no way that a strong young man, a special forces marine, no less would have punched this overweight middle-aged man and not even broken a cheek bone. She’s seen it. Besides if he would attack the guards. He wouldn’t have let them beat him like this and leave only a black eye on one of them. Plus there are certain other injuries that are hard pressed to explain with just a beating. They try to intimidate her, but these two are new, and clearly don’t understand how things work around here.

                                    She asks them if they’re aware who this man is. They do not. She doesn’t inform them, she just wishes them luck and on her break goes to the warden. Aside from helping the guards, Mule had helped her with a problem at her house. He reassured her he wasn’t crazy and gave her a number to call. That number happened to be his mother and she took care of it discreetly and thoroughly. When the warden was having excessive trouble remodeling his new house, she gave him the number as well.

                                     The two guards were called up. They were informed that the man they had beaten so thoroughly was Sheriff Winchester’s little brother. They were also informed that Samuel Winchester had been in fact a first sergeant in the USMC, special forces. There is no possible way that what they claim to have happened actually happened, or else they would be a lot more injured and Mule would have been far less, if at all. So he was going to do them a very big favor and let them either resign or transfer to a certain prison no corrections officer wants to be assigned to. The smaller one quits. The larger one takes the transfer. He doesn’t last there very long.

                                When Mule is finally well enough to leave the infirmary, some idiot decides to call out to him ‘Hey, Winchester, it looks like you really are the guard’s bitch.’ It took five guards to get Mule off of him. He gets about six weeks in solitary.  They once gave him a latin prayer book. The last time it was the NA handbook. This time they just leave him with his thoughts.


	13. Saint Lucifer, Patron Saint of the Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mule calls to the heavens for help  
> his prayers are answered  
> It goes poorly.

            It’s never been so long before. But that’s how it goes, each time you’re put in solitary you’re there one more day than the last time. Someone slips a razor blade through his slot about the nineteenth meal in. He uses it to shave, but often consider just slicing his jugular. He also uses it to slice his finger enough to bleed so he can mark the number of meals on the wall. Three a day for forty two days will make it one hundred twenty six meals before he’s let out. It might have been one of the guards who didn’t like him was bribed by another inmate to slip him the razor. Maybe the two guards who got in trouble had friends. Maybe they think this time solitary will break him, What they don’t understand is that he’s already about as broken as he can get.

             All he can think about is last days. The last day he saw his men. The last day of basic training. The last day training for special forces. The last day he actually enjoyed his brother’s company. The last day he failed to quit. But most of all the last day he saw Bree. Just the thought of her name makes him feel like his heart is tearing apart inside his chest. He can only remember part of that day.

              She was teasing him of course. She loved to tease him, sometimes too much. Always asking him if he loved her. Can I keep you?  Can I have you, heart mind and soul? He’d always answer yes he loves her, yes she can keep him, and you can have my heart and mind,but I can’t give you what I don’t have. Or it was stolen by a pickpocket in bolivia. Sometimes he says he lost it in a card game.

               The last time she teases him a little too much, he’s in pain desperate for a hit and she just holds it behind her back against the wall. He didn’t have the patience. Just as he was going to force her to give it to him she offered to sell it to him. For what? For his soul, of course. He was so desperate and frustrated he just said fine, yes just give him the damn heroin and she can have his soul. He can’t remember anything after that besides waking up handcuffed to a hospital bed.

                 He keeps dreaming of it as well. Only the dream ends when she smiles and says it’s a deal. And he wakes up screaming with echos of intense pain. The guards ignore him. They’re used to his nightmares by now. Finally a book is slipped through the meal slot with lunch. It’s the NA manual again. 

                 Mule picks it up, everything’s the same, the steps are the same. He could never make it past the first step. There is no higher power. There is nothing to submit to and even if there was he sold his soul anyway, so why should they help him. There are no divine helpers no true angels, only the creatures they call Fallen Angels. At best there are benevolent pagan gods asking only to be respected and honored and otherwise left alone. Those are few and far between. Besides, the last one he found and helped reconcile with the villagers couldn’t help them when rebels came after Mule and his men left, and slaughtered the entire village.

               This copy must be new though, because it has an illustration. A picture of an angel extending the butt of her spear down the cracks in the earth to a man being pulled down into torment. His fingers touch the shaft and the expression on his face is one of pained yet joyful tears, a look of a man being rescued.  A closer look at the angel shows it’s androgynous or possibly male but with such beauty it doesn’t even matter. The caption reads St.Lucifer, light bringer, Helel Ben Sahar, oh shining one, son of the morning, saving a fallen soul. It strikes Mule as odd because most depictions of the angel show it saving a man drowning in what he always considered a pool of tears. On the back of the inset is the prayer, begging the angel for it’s mercy.

                           Oh Lucifer, Light Bringer, Patron Saint of the Fallen

                           I am lost and need your guidance

                           Helel Ben Sahar, oh Shining One, Son of the Morning

                           Brightest and Most Beautiful of Angels

                           I have fallen into darkness unable to get out

                           Shine your Light upon me and release me from my self-made prison 

                           Give to me your Father’s mercy and give me hope once again.

 

                          For some reason the prayer irritates him, and he closes the book. Half of it is sycophantic groveling. Is that really necessary? If so who would want help from such a narcissistic being. People who are past the point of pride obviously. Mule knows he’s proud, but he shouldn’t be. What does he have to be proud about anyways? He’s a disgrace to everything and everyone he once held dear. He’s a junkie and a criminal. He stole from the garage. He stole from his mother. Even if he got parole how could he ever face any of them again?

                           How could he face anyone? How could he go back to the VFW after disgracing the uniform. Better to just end it. Maybe he’ll see Bree again some day, ask her why she left. After all she’s the one who owns his soul, right? What if she actually comes to see him. What could she say that would make anything right between them.

                          Maybe she could say she was sorry. That she loved him but she was scared and didn’t know what to do. That she thought his family would blame her for his addiction. That she missed him as much as he missed her. She could beg for his forgiveness, promise never to leave him again. And he’d forgive her. He knows he would. He wouldn’t even care she left as long as she was with him now. As long as she forgave him, too.

                          It was all his fault anyway. He’s the one who got addicted. All she wanted was to help his pain go away. She always loved and supported him and took his side. She always took his side, was always supported him whatever he did no matter what it was. Maybe… maybe she felt guilty. Maybe she blamed herself. Maybe she’s still thinking about him all the time, too.  

                          Maybe she’s just waiting for him to get out. Maybe … maybe she finally realized he’s not worth waiting for.  How could he get out and get her back with the way he is right now? She deserves better. She deserves so much better. She’s his angel. If a human being could be so wonderful maybe there even could be real angels. One who could help him become the man Bree deserves. One who would help him be someone worthy of the love and affection she showered on him. Isn’t that so much more important than pride?

                           “ Saint Lucifer, Light bringer, please help me.” Mule kneels beside his mattress and prays. “I’ve hurt everyone I love. I’m a disgrace to everything I ever belonged to. I failed my men. I failed my family. I failed the love of my life. And I can’t stop myself. I’ve tried to quit so many times and I still can’t stay clean. I’ve gone through withdrawal over and over again and I still can’t stay away. I can’t do this on my own and I have to. I have to be better. Helel Ben Sahar, oh Shining One, Son of the Morning have mercy on me.”

                               Nothing happens except that the tears running down his face eventually dry up and he feels tired. He gives a bitter laugh. But what did he expect? A celestial fan fare? A bright light shining in on him while St. Lucifer descends from the clouds? Mule lays on the bed and covers his eyes. His head hurts from crying and he’s so tired. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. He’s deluding himself into thinking there’s a hope for anything. Maybe tomorrow he’ll finally do it. Everyone would be so much better off without him anyway.

 

                  For the first time in a long time Mule finds himself in a pleasant dream. Tall green grasses covering the side of the hill ripple like waves in the gentle breeze. Below is a sparkling lake with crystal waters. Across the lake and around the sides of it is a vast forest. On the top of the hill surrounding him completely are his favorite flowers. Violets daisies, dandelions, clover, tiger lilies and daffodils. Behind him, Sunflowers. The sun shines warmly down on him and the scents drifting in the fresh air make him feel more refreshed than he had been in a very long time. Since before Iraq really.

                  He’s spent so much time in hospital beds, physical therapy, in the house, in his room, at the garage. Even the rides on his motorcycle were just a way of getting from one place to another. Usually to buy more heroin. Sometimes cocaine. But that was to counteract the heroin when the bliss was gone to let him make love to her properly. But that’s when he started stealing. From the garage, when he ran short at the end of the month he took money from his mother’s wallet, from the cookie jar, never more than fifty or sixty dollars from her. If she noticed, she never said anything. If she noticed any jewelry missing. She never said. She doesn’t really wear jewelry anyway. At least that’s what he told himself to try and make it okay.

                  The songs of a bird startles him out of his own mind. Much to his surprise despite the darkness and despair in his thoughts the same comforting wholesome beautiful world surrounds him. His mind should be tormenting him with horrors real and imagined, but it’s not. Mule covers his eyes with his hands a brief moment.

                    “Don’t cry.” A soft low voice gently reaches his ears, and a gentle caress of his cheek makes him uncover them again. A beautiful being of crystaline beauty kneels before him. Equally crystal wings are folded behind it’s back like the steeple on a cathedral, towering over it. It’s lips glimmer and shine. It’s eyes are a gorgeous ice blue. “It’s alright, Samuel. I’m here now.”It’s magnificence makes his eyes hurt, and he had to close them again, even turn his head away to reduce the brilliance. “My apologies.” it says and the brightness fades. “It’s been a while since I appeared as myself. Maybe this will be easier on you.”

                     When Mule opens his eyes he finds his father sitting before him, young and strong, smiling compassionately at him. Of the swirl of feelings rising up at the sight, the biggest one is anger. How dare this being take this form. The obvious attempt at manipulation makes Mule clench his teeth and his fists.

                     “Is there someone else you’d prefer?”It asks gently.

                     “I’d prefer it if you don’t use someone I know or care for as a costume.” Samuel replies coolly.

                     “Very Well.” It snaps it’s fingers and John Winchester is replaced by a handsome blonde man in his thirties wearing jeans and a blue checkered top over a white t-shirt.

                     “Who are you? And What are you doing in my dreams?” Mule demands angrily.

                         “My name is Helel Ben Sahar and I’m here because you called for me.” there’s a look of happiness in its eyes, maybe even eagerness that makes Mule feel suspicious. Why would a supposed angel, the greatest of all angels, be happy and eager to see a thieving junkie?

                          “What do you want?” The hostile question seems to take it a back for a second.

                           “Your salvation of course.” The creature claiming to be an angel smiles, almost amused at the question, like he’s answering a small child.

                            “I’m pretty sure I sold my soul for heroin.” Mule says dryly. “I’m a little past salvation.”

                             “Don’t be ridiculous.” The angel’s saccharine tone is slight marred. “If you didn’t want my help then why did you pray to me?” He asks softly almost chiding him.

                              “I don’t know. A moment of weakness, I guess. I don’t believe in angels. I don’t believe in god and I don’t believe there’s really such a thing as souls. So whatever you really are, stay out of my dreams and out of my life or I will destroy you. I was raised to destroy things like you.” Mule grabs the creature’s shirt. “You will never get what you want from me so if you value your existence you will leave me the fuck alone. Do you understand me?” It just stares at him in pure amazement, as if nobody’s ever spoken to it this way before.

                            “You’re threatening me?” It sounds so offended. “Are you actually threatening the patron saint of the fallen? An archangel. One of the most powerful revered beings there is? How dare you? I am here to help you. You called to me to help you and you…” The flash of anger in it’s eyes is almost terrifying but Mule stands his ground. The air around him seems to drop in temperature like he walked into a freezer.  It takes it a little while to compose itself.

                            “No. No, I understand.” It says coolly, clearly restraining itself. “The life you’ve had that led you to where you are wouldn’t be one to inspire faith, would it? If you trusted in the benevolence of strangers so easily you would never have survived either as a hunter or as a marine. Very well.” The calm soothing voice is back as Mule’s hand is gently removed from it’s shirt. “I can’t do much for you this way, but I can do something. And maybe the next time we meet, you’ll be a little more open to your good fortune.” The ‘angel’ taps his forehead.

 

                              When Mule wakes up for the first time in a long time, he feels completely refreshed, relaxed and alive. It’s more than just a good nights sleep, but he can’t put his finger on it until he goes to sit up. There’s not that resistance pulling at his muscles when he moves, no tightness. He stretches out his arm, bends his elbow, moves it in every direction.The scars are still there on his skin, but they’re somewhat softer. He tests everything, every muscle. Aside from being a little weaker than his right side, his left side is working perfectly and painlessly.

                              Mule feels a little dizzy, not sure what to think, what to feel. Part of him wants to accept it. Accept and rejoice in his good fortune. Send prayers of thanks even. Maybe an apology, but the rest of him is screaming in alarm. This can’t happen. There can’t be angels not real ones, not good ones, and neither could there be a St Lucifer. This isn’t a gift. It can’t be. Nothing comes without a price and if he doesn’t pay it, it will probably be taken away again.

                              Suddenly the door to his cell opens by a guard with a panicked look on his face.

                      “Jesus Christ, Winchester, I thought you were dead.” He puts a hand to his chest in relief.

                       “What?” Mule frowns.

                       “Goddamnit, Fred. All I said was that we had a quiet night for once.” Another guard pulls him back and closes the door again.

                        “No you don’t understand. This man has had nightmare every single fucking day since he’s got here. You said he was silent, my first thought is this man is dead.”

                         “Yeah, I was kind of thinking that myself.” Another prisoner pipes up with a few other agreements. 

                          “Well, he’s fine, now shut up.” 

 

                           Mule can’t stop thinking about it. Not when he’s doing sit ups, push ups, squats, stretches and even a little yoga. Not when he eats because he’s actually wants to eat. When he sleeps, he dreams of his friends and family and their best happiest moments. He dreams of Bree. He even those days with Jo after her father died on a hunt, when she turned to him in her grief, almost begging him to make love to her and hold her and never go away. He was hesitant and unsure, but he couldn’t say no. He loved her so much then. But then Dean shows up, driving down from college, and it’s like she forgets he even existed.

                          He never thought anything could hurt so much. Until Bree just disappeared from his life. She’s not coming back. He knows she’s not coming back. It’s just sometimes that he grasps onto the idea of it like a life preserver to keep him frown drowning. A life preserver that’s slowly sinking under his weight.

                           In truth, he doesn’t know what to believe about anything anymore. He knows what he wants to believe and what experience has taught him and they’re almost never the same thing. The only time anything good happens to him is just to build him up in order to tear him to pieces that much more painfully. Or maybe he’s just tearing himself to pieces. Maybe he just doesn’t deserve anything else. Maybe he just deserves to be reduced to a weed slowly dying in his brother’s shadow. Maybe his mistake was ever thinking he could be anything else.

                           Maybe he just needs some help. Real help. NA. A therapist. Rehab. His mother. A priest. Maybe even his brother who would at least make him feel stronger emotions than the cravings albeit unpleasant ones. He kept trying to do this on his own, but he’s just not strong enough. Maybe angels aren’t real. Maybe god isn’t real. Maybe souls aren’t real either. But people are. People he loves who love him even if they shouldn’t. Even if he doesn’t deserve it.

                           He needs to make it up to them somehow. He needs to keep clean. He needs to stop getting in fights or at least not using it as an excuse to unleash his rage on his attackers. He needs to get parole and a job. He needs to do something to make things up to his mother. Maybe he could go hunting with her when he’s off parole. Maybe… Maybe he could go to college. He’s a little old for it, but it would definitely make her happy.

                           The being doesn’t come again until the day he’s let out of solitary. But his dreams remain sweet and calming and peaceful until then and he sleeps so incredibly well.

                           “Hello, Samuel. How are you feeling?” The ‘angel’ says with a smile that strikes him as a little too self assured.

                          “What do you want from me?” Is all he replies.

                          “I told you, your salvation.”

                         “Try again.” Mule crosses his arms and just stares at him. 

                           “Why don’t you believe me? What do I need to do to prove myself to you?” He asks the clearly frustrated questions so gently and sweetly in that annoying way of his.

                           “Everything has a price. And trust needs to be earned.”Is Mule’s cold response.

                           “I’ve soothed your dreams and taken your pain away. What more can I do? What do you want from me?” His voice is not quite as gentle this time.

                           “I don’t want anything from you. I don’t need anything from you and nothing will make me change my mind.” They stand, looking at each other for the longest time.

                           “Samuel, is it really me you don’t trust? Or yourself.” The angel asks gently with a compassionate look in his eyes.

                           “It’s you.”

                            “I can see into your heart, Samuel. I see the emptiness, the sorrow, the pain, the despair. You don’t believe I’m who I say I am because you don’t believe you’re deserving of mercy. Why would Helel Ben Sahar come down from the throne of heaven for you? Because you are loved, Samuel. The gifts I give to you are not my own, but my father’s. It’s his love and grace that shine down upon you. I am simply his messenger. Beyond that, you yourself are special to me. I can’t say why but all I want is you to be healthy, happy and fulfilled. I want you to be what you were meant to be. More than anything in the world.”

                               “No.”

                               “No?”

                               “No.” Mule repeats himself.

                               “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

                               “No.”

                               “I don’t know what else I can do.” The angel shakes his head. “This is… usually it’s enough just to see me and hear my voice. Nobody’s ever called to me for help just to reject it when I come.”The angel sits down heavily on the ground. “I’ve never had to prove who I am. It’s not like angels are given government ID cards.” He runs his hand back through his hair as Mule tries not to find his last comment amusing. “What will it take for you to trust me?”

                                “I don’t know, but when I do, I’ll let you know.”

                                “Fair enough.” the angel ignores his sarcasm and sighs, looking slightly depressed for a moment. “I know a lot about you Samuel. I’ve read everything you’ve ever written, and everything written about you. I suppose I should have expected this. But you were such an outstanding soldier. You had respect for the chain of command.”

                                 “I was lucky.”Mule replies cooly. “I was always under the command of competent people who earned my respect and my trust.”

                                 “I’m glad. You did so much good. It wasn’t your fault, you know.” Helel Ben Sahar looks up at him. “You were given faulty information, there was no support, you were so outnumbered you had no chance. It was luck that you survived. A miracle, though not one of ours. Who knows maybe Father stepped in to save you. I don’t know. I didn’t know you existed until you called out to me.”

                              “I should have died with them. I had no right to survive without them. I had no right to go back home to my family when they never would. They were my men, my brothers and I failed them.” Mule isn’t sure why he’s telling it this. Maybe because he has to say it to someone, he’s been holding it in for so long.

                              “Survivors guilt.” The angel says sympathetically. “When you lose your brothers no matter how righteous the war, or how right your cause, you wonder why. Why did they die and not you? Why do you deserve to live? They didn’t deserve to die. Why couldn’t you have saved them?”

                              “You lost people?” Mule sits down in front of it, a little surprised at the sincerity in his voice. 

                             “Hundreds. Are you familiar with Heaven’s Civil War? Really it was no more than a battle but it was a devastating one. The devil decided to attack Heaven with all her Fallen angels. So many of my little brothers and sisters died. And the ones left behind suffered their loss just like you. They were in so much pain and heartbreak. I did what I could, but often it was one of their other siblings that they were close to who they needed in order to help them through it. It was easier though. They listen to me. They trust me. They love me and they have faith, even though they saw no more of our father than you did. Some still grieve of course, but they have their loved ones to comfort them.”

                            Mule doesn’t say anything but he’s thinking about it. Thinking about wanting to talk about it with someone, anyone who could understand. But he won’t be lured by some    
sweet words and tempting promises that are too good to be true. You can’t trust supernatural creatures like that. And if he’s only learned one thing as a hunter, it’s that if it seems to be too good to be true, it probably is. But still he can’t help but wonder.  

                            “Who was there to comfort you?” He asks. That’s when the dream ends.   


	14. Reaching Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mule continues being difficult  
>  He gets to go home.  
>  Things aren't the same.

 

                  Mule makes his first phone call that day to Bobby. He was pleased to hear from him, asked how he was doing, if he’d talked to the lawyer they’d gotten for him. He had, but he didn’t pay much attention, he just signed the paperworks to appeal his sentencing. He’d tried to refuse it but his lawyer had pointed out that he was already paid for whether Mule used him or not and would not be giving refunds, so Mule cooperated.

                 “You didn’t have to do this for me.” Mule told him. “You and Ellen…”

                 “You gave us a hundred thousand dollars, Sam and never once asked for it back. It;s the least we can do. But the least you could have done was call us sooner. I know I never actually met you in person, but we spent a lot of time on the phone together when you were a kid working on that game.  So I kind of feel like I do. I care about you, kid. And Ellen, she thinks of you like her own son, did you know that?”

                  “No. I didn’t. But I kind of think of her as a second mother. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I just… I couldn’t face anyone.” Mule apologizes. “Besides, I kind of don’t stay in gen pop too much.”

                   “Oh? They finally put you under protective custody?”

                   “Not exactly. There’s always somebody who comes and tries to pick a fight with me, or kill me, either because I’m 6’4 or because my brother’s the sheriff. Depending on how many people there are and how quickly the guards step in, I’m then sent to the nurse and after that sent straight to solitary. I get back out and the cycle continues. I think maybe fifteen people have tried to kill me.”

                     “How are you holding up?”

                     “I’m managing.” Mule sighs. “But I don’t think your lawyers going to do me any good. Anyways that’s not why I’m calling you. I’m having a bit of other trouble. I’ve been having dreams where something comes to me and talks to me, claiming to be an angel. St. Lucifer himself in fact. Do you think you could get me some angel info and also something about preventing creatures from accessing your dreams?”

                      “Of course, I’ll make you copies of what I’ve got.”

                      “On a related note, after the first dream, I woke up and the pain was gone.”

                      “What pain?” Bobby asks, reminding Mule he hadn’t told them about it.

                      “Um, since I was injured in iraq, it hurts to move anything on my left side and I have a limited range of motion even so. My muscles were scarred and I was in almost constant pain when I didn’t have pain killers. I’ve come a long way but I still had limited movement and the pain until that first dream. Now I don’t. It’s as if I never did. I even have full range of motion and everything.” There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

                       “Did it ask you for anything? Did you agree to anything?’

                       “No, and I fully expect this to be taken away when I keep refusing to cooperate.”

                       “Have you considered the possibility that maybe he’s the real deal?”

                       “Yes, but he’s not.”

                       “How can you be so sure?”

                       “Because I so desperately want it to be.”

                       “Understood. I’ll do what I can. But first you’re talking to Ellen.”

                       “Wait, no I…” But there’s no helping it, Mule gets the lecture of his life as well as an open offer to come work at the Road House and stay at The Stable in a permanently reserved room just for him when he gets out. Of course that comes with a rather blunt statement about the living environments relationship to his addiction. Finally he gets to give them his love and hang up.

 

                      “ Have you thought about calling your mother?” Is the first thing the angel asks. Mule doesn’t say anything. “You know she misses you and is a little heartbroken at your refusal to either see or talk to her.”

                       “I don’t want to talk about my mother with you.” Mule turns away from the angel.

                       “I’m fine with you just listening. There’s nothing you could do to make your mother stop loving you. You’ll always be her baby boy. Sure maybe you’ve broken her heart a few times, but you can make things right again. Just talking to her, letting you know you love her, asking for her forgiveness. She’ll give it to you.”

                         “Maybe I’m not ready to be forgiven.” Mule counters.

                         “Not everything’s about you , Samuel. It’s not always about what you think or don’t think you deserve. This is about your mother who’s hurting because you’re pushing her away. Think about how she feels. What she needs for once. She needs you to let her love you and be there for you. She needs you to let her help save you. Or do you want her to keep feeling guilty, blaming herself for your situation, like you do for what happened in Iraq?”

                           “It’s not her fault, though. Not even a little.”

                           “You can tell her that, just like I told you, but that won’t change how she feels. Maybe there’s one moment, just one that she wishes she did differently. A conversation she wishes she’d had. A problem she wishes she hadn’t just let go. One moment where she decided where she decided to do or not do something, a single moment of hesitation where everything started to fall apart. That moment is going to haunt her until she can do something anything to fix things. Until she can finally save you from yourself. You don’t want my help, but you owe it to your mother to accept hers.”

                             As much as Mule hates to admit it, the angel makes sense. And something in is voice, he’s not sure what, makes Mule feel that what he’s saying is sincere, and maybe from personal experience. Though he doubts the angel will tell him about it,if it is. It doesn’t seem the type to reveal it’s flaws and failings.

                            “You still haven’t told me what you want from me.” Mule declares.

                            “Yes, I have.” Another lie. “You should talk to your brother, too.”

                            “Fuck my brother!” Mule turns around angrily. “Fuck Dean and Fuck you for even suggesting it!”

                            “Excuse me?”

                            “ Do you know how many people have tried to murder me because of him? Do you? He arrested me. And if that’s not bad enough he used that as part of his fucking campaign! Don’t you dare talk to me about my brother, that over bearing, condescending, controlling, know it all asshole!”

                             “Sounds about right.” The angel gives a twitch of a smile that irritates Mule even more.

                            “He doesn’t understand what I’ve been through. He doesn’t want to understand. All he cares about was that I did something wrong and he is never going to let me live it down. When I get out, if I get out. He’s going to be breathing down my neck every second. Waiting for me to make another mistake so he can shove me right back in here. I don’t want to hear a goddamn word about my brother!”

                             “You should watch your language.” The angel says cooly and leaves.

 

                            The pages from Bobby come fairly quickly. Though it took a while for them to check it and decide if they could give it to him. They just took out the staples and let him have it. There’s not much on St. Lucifer, but half of it is new to him. He’s the Devil’s greatest enemy, dedicated to saving the fallen both human and angel even as the Devil’s right hand  the Nightingale sews chaos and corruption among mankind. He sits on the throne of heaven, and so often has to delegate the salvation of humans to lesser angels, only appearing himself in the most dire of cases. 

                              St. Lucifer can mostly be recognized by his vessels and their incomparable beauty. Those who claim to have seen his true form in their dreams were overwhelmed by the perfect visage that appeared before him and still can’t think of it without a feeling of hope and awe at his magnificence.

                               There’s an exorcism to cast Fallen angels from your dreams and a symbol that when put on your flesh helps protect you from having your dreams invaded. It works best when using ink made from the charcoal of a blessed ash. But any medium will provide you some protection. Which is good because there’s no way to get the special ink. He can get someone to lie about it while giving him regular ink, but that’s it.

                                It’s pretty easy to find someone to do it for him. Juarez makes the best jailhouse tattoos and Mule had helped out one or two of his little brothers who were tried as adults. That night, when the ‘angel’ returned in his dream it was unable to talk. It makes a couple of irritated hand signs and vanishes. Curious, Mule asks one of the prisoners what the signs meant. He laughs harder than he has in a while when he learns it was simply ‘You little shit.”

 

                                As expected, his parole is denied. They feel regardless of circumstances that he’s just too violent to be released. But the next week he has the appeals hearing. It’s a different judge who didn’t find the sentence too excessive, until she read the judge’s orders to deny him prescription strength painkillers despite his chronic pain, and to deny him protective custody.  The guards testified that inmates had attempted to murder him many times when learning his brother was Sheriff Winchester. They even said as much as they were doing so before he beat them up, or after. Those two crossed the line into inhumane. Several guards also give character witnesses. 

                                  His brother's there and promises to personally ensure that Mule complies with any parole terms, suggesting that there be parole, the bastard. He’s already secured a job for him, found the location of local NA meetings and set up regular appointments for blood tests. Mule is also welcome back home with his mother where he’ll stay until he completes his parole. His mother also promises to make sure he complies with the terms of his parole.

                                The judge gives him a year’s probation with the usual conditions. The first thing he does is give Bobby and Ellen who are there, of course, a hug and a thank you and promises that as soon as he’s done with parole he’ll come and take them up on their offer. They assure him he’ll always be welcome. 

                              When he can’t put it off anymore, he goes to his mother. He can’t look her in the eye and all he can say is ‘I’m sorry’ but it’s enough for her. She hugs him tightly and tells him that everything is alright. That he’d always be her baby boy and she’d always forgive him and love him and is just happy he’s coming home. Neither of them let go until their silent tears stop and they’re able to compose themselves. Mule says nothing to Dean, who’d brought him a change of clothes, and and just gets into the car with his mother. Dean pretends not to care. 

                              As soon as they get home and let Mule shower and dress, they take him to a buffet. All six of them, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Dean, Mary and Mule. It’s only slightly awkward. Ellen and Mary ignore each other, punctuated with the occasional glare, as usual. Dean and Mule don’t ignore each other exactly, but they don’t speak directly to each other. They both show remarkable restraint on both their parts despite the hostile air between them.

                               Mostly Mule just eats and eats and eats until he can’t eat anymore. It’s the best meal he can remember having for a very long time. He and Bobby have a long talk that night on the back porch about his dreams up to and including the angel calling him a little shit in sign language.

                              “He hasn’t asked you for anything.” Bobby comfirns.

                              “No, but I’m pretty sure when he does it’s going to be something pretty damn big. He won’t tell me what he wants from me. He says he just wants to help me be the person I was meant to be. But it’s not… It feels like the truth but not the truth and I just… I can’t deal with something like this. Not right now.”Mule runs his fingers back through his hair. He needs to visit a barber soon get a cut that’s more… regulation.

                                “I think you should tell your mother about this.”

                                “No. I don’t want her involved. She’s worried enough about me. I promise I’ll tell her if there starts to be trouble, but I kind of want to handle this on my own.”

                                 “Samuel, she’s your mother. You have a problem. The last time you had a problem, you didn’t tell her and you couldn’t handle it and made her suffer. Don’t do that to her again. Especially not if it involves something claiming to be an angel. Your mother… she’s made enemies among the Fallen, including the Nightingale herself. If something angelic or claiming to be is coming to you it could be to use you to hurt her. But personally i’m on the fence about this whole thing.

                                    “ This creature’s done you nothing but good and given you nothing but good advice, unasked for or not. You’re a good man, Samuel. One of the best I’ve ever known. If anyone deserves an angel’s salvation it’s you. At the same time I feel the way you do. That it’s too good to be true. And because I want it to be true, too, it probably isn’t. Which is why I want you to tell your mother.”

                                    “I know.” Mule covers his face. “Do you think she’d know how to check? To see if it’s fallen or not or even an angel.”

                                     “Maybe. You should ask her.”

                                     “I will. It’s probably over though. If he shows up again, somehow, I will.” Mule promises and stops to think again. “Did I ever thank you for all of your help? Not just with the game, though that was really great of you to take your time and help me, but for all the times you did when I was in the Marines. I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

                                       “Samuel, you’ve thanked me every single time. It’s probably such a habit of you to say ‘thanks Bobby’ that you don’t even remember doing it. Besides, I should be the one thanking you for all those checks.”

                                        “Well, they gave us a discretionary fund for a reason. I consulted you, meaning you were a consultant. I thought it was about time you got something for the work you do.”

                                         “Actually, I’m still getting emails. And checks.” Bobby grins. “Apparently former members of your team are in new teams with similar problems. So, I should really be thanking you, so thank you.  It’s weird working for the government, though. Who knows one day they might have a hunting department and we can do all this legally and with a budget.”

                                           “I don’t know whether to hope so or be terrified of what I’ve started.” Mule grimaces. “Anyway, I’m going to go to bed. It was good seeing you.” He gets up and gives the old man a hug.

                                           “Good seeing you, too, kid.”Bobby pats his back. “If you need anything don’t be shy about picking up the phone.”

                                           “ I won’t. Goodnight Bobby.”

                                           “Goodnight, Samuel.”

 

                                         It’s harder than he expected going into his room. When he lies down on the bed, he feels Bree’s absence again. He smells the absence of perfume. He hears the silence so loud without her songs, her laughter. He feels the cold absence of her touch. He could push it away in prison. Accepting that’s how it would be for a while. But here it’s still like a hole in his heart widening and threatening to consume him.

                                          If it was an angel, if it is St. Lucifer, he could ask it about her. Where she is. If she’s okay. Why she left him. If she’s actually in danger. If she was, he’s beg for her to be saved.  To just see her one more time.

                                          And maybe he’d ask him to help Jo. He could see the pain in her eyes when an old woman came up to thank Dean for helping her grandson and asked when the two of them were going to have a baby. We can’t, Jo said and the old woman apologized and tried to cheer her up with ‘well there’s always adoption’ But with Jo’s record, they’d probably never give her a child.

                                          He’d ask the angel if he could let her have a baby with the man she loves. But he doesn’t know. He isn’t sure yet and he’d never put them in danger by even talking about them to that thing.

                                           When he sleeps that night he dreams of his time with Bree. her songs her laughter her touch and the pure ecstacy it brought him. Her compassion, her understanding, her hatred of Dean. It made him feel good to know that he would never be in his  brother’s shadow with at least one person. 

                                             He dreams of the last night when she teased him too much and he allegedly gave her his soul. But it doesn’t end where it’s always ended. This time she pushes him onto the bed with such force it surprises him. She straddles his hips lifting his shirt. He remembers feeling torn between making love to her right then or taking the heroine first as she was pushing up his shirt. Then suddenly she shoves her hand inside of him with such intense pain, he almost blacked out but couldn’t. He could feel her carve her name onto the very essence of him, maybe what they call the soul. As she did so, she bent over and whispered to him. ‘Tell you mother we’re even.’

                                               She laughed a laugh he’d never heard from her before. Beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Then she was gone and the pain stopped. Suddenly he knew… he knew that everything was a lie and he couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t bear it. It almost over whelmed his desperate need to escape his pain but the craving won out and he picked up the heroin he sold his soul for and injected it into his veins.

                                               He woke sobbing into his mother’s arms as she tries to calm him down. It’s not true. It can’t be true. He kept the angel from talking in his dreams so its manipulating him with nightmares instead. What’s worse, he wants the drug more than he’s ever wanted it in his life. Anything to take the pain away.

                                               “Mom…” he opens his mouth wanting to tell her. But he can’t bring himself to say it. It can’t be true and if it is, how could he tell her what he’s done. How could he burden her with that knowledge? That her youngest son is going to hell. That the woman she welcomed into her home helped him fall so low and condemned him to an eternity of torment. And all just to hurt her. “I can’t do this. I can’t handle this alone.”

                                                  “You’re not alone.” She reminds him. “As long as Dean and I are alive you never will be.”

 

                                              The job his brother had gotten him was in an animal shelter. Taking care of the pets, cleaning them, cleaning up after them, even showing them some affection to soothe them. It’s something he’s really good at. He can even work with the most unfriendly ones and get them to trust again. He’s excellent at matching pets to families too. But he’s never allowed anywhere near the cash register or the medicine cabinet with its new lock on it.

                                                Every morning, Dean takes him to work. Dean tries to talk to him, but Mule just ignores him. Soon enough Dean stops trying. Dean also drives him to the NA meetings at a church, waits upstairs for him and drives him back home. He takes him three times a week. They never speak a word more than absolutely necessary.

                       His mother sometimes picks him up from work. She lets him talk about his day and the animals. When she has time she takes him to the VFW and does volunteer work with him. She fixes a few cars, rotates some tires, changes the oil and antifreeze and refills a few things. She even does some inspections on the major issues and lets them know how much it should cost them to get it repaired.  He does some maintenance, some yard work, helps his mother fix a few wheelchairs, and patch some tires. And they both help setting things up and taking things down for events.

                         At home he and his mother eat premade meals from piggle wiggly, microwave pizza and order out. At first Dean makes them healthy meals again but Sam won’t eat them, so he stops. He hears his mother casually mention to a friend that she has to stop at the bank and get the necklace for the auction so it’d take her a day or two. She’d put her valuables in a safety deposit box. She never pays for anything in cash anymore and when Dean brings her a batch of cookies, he asks her in a hushed voice if she still kept her emergency money in there. She just shakes her head.

                           The medicine cabinets are empty. There are no more locks on the door to his room and the looks and whispers from the neighbors remind him what he is over and over again. It makes it hard. Sometimes he wishes he was in solitary again, away from the world. Then he dreams about solitary and is glad he couldn’t be put there anymore.

                             Two months after he gets out, Jo goes to the doctor with a stomach bug and comes home with the results of a blood test saying she’s pregnant. He’s never seen his brother look so happy in his life. Jo is thrilled. Mary’s thrilled and so is Mule. But Dean is over the moon. Mule considers at least telling him congratulations, but just congratulates Jo instead.

                               His mother starts taking him to NA. She waits for him out in the car. If he lingers she doesn’t give him a suspicious look and interrogation. He can’t bring himself to say anything at the meetings but his name, that he’s an addict and how long he’s been clean. He keeps the chips in his pocket.


	15. The Courtship of Samuel Winchester.

                                         One night, after Jo’s ultra-sound showed she was having twins, Mule decided to sit in the pews a little while. They locked up the doors inside but the front door was always left open. After a few minutes a beautiful young woman walks in and sits down beside him.

                                        “I didn’t want to have to do this.”She says quietly. “But you shut me out of your dreams.”

                                         “This is a church.” he looks over to her a little confused.

                                         “Yup, and this is a bible.” She reaches over and picks up one of the bibles, flipping through it, to the new testament, the annunciation. “My favorite part is when Father declared to the world that all could be forgiven. Anyone anywhere could be forgiven.  It made things a little harder than just helping someone make the appropriate sacrifices but it often worked so much better. And I could save those beyond what could be properly atoned for. If you have a crucifix I’ll hold that as well. Or if you have holy water I’d be more than glad to dr..”

                                          Mule interrupts her by splashing it from his flask into the girls face. She takes a breath, an annoyed look on her face. He actually kind of likes those looks. They strike him a more real, more honest.

                                         “Is there anything else you need from me?” Mule asks politely.

                                         “A little respect would be nice.” The angel says dryly, wiping its face off. “And you, what else do you need from me to prove myself to you?”

                                         “Some sort of proof that you’re actually an angel and not just some supernatural entity pretending to be one. If you’re still claiming to be St. Lucifer anyways.”

                                          “Alright if the miracles I already performed for you weren’t enough.” She gets up and walks up to the stage, standing in front of the podium. Alright light fills the church as the shadows of a set of enormous wings spreads across the walls. But the shadow is different than other shadows it waves and sparkles like light shining through a water. The tips of the lower feathers, perhaps the lower feathers themselves look like drops of rain continuously falling but only to a certain point where they disappear. “Is that good enough? Do you believe me now? I can’t give you a feather because they’re liquid and if I froze them they’d just melt and return to me.”

                                            “Yes.” Mule says quietly, and then grins a little remembering the frustrated angel calling him a little shit. “Thank you. For taking the pain away. And I assume for Jo’s pregnancy.”

                                            “Not for helping you remember the truth?” St. Lucifer walks back over to him, kneeling on the pew in front of him, just looking at him with a gently look in her eyes.

                                            “I can’t feel grateful for that.” He looks away.

                                            “I’m sorry.” The apology sounds genuine as well.

                                            “Who was she? What was Bree really?” Mule asks, St. Lucifer is silent for a second.

                                            “Gabrielle, the fallen angel commonly known as the Nightingale.” Lucifer reluctantly informs him. Mule feels sick for a minute like he wants to pass out. “Shhh.” Lucifer reaches over and strokes his hair. “It’s alright. I’m here and I won’t let her near you again.” Surprisingly Mule starts to feel calmer and is able to just shove the knowledge away. Now is not the time to deal with that. “If only I’d known about you sooner, I could have saved you from her. I could have protected you. Now all I can do is try to convince her to give you your soul back, and if that fails I’ll send all my forces to rescue your soul from hell.”

                                              “Why?” Mule asks.

                                              “Why what?”

                                              “Why go to these lengths for me? What am I to you? What do you want from me that’s worth you doing all these things?”

                                               “I’ve already told you.”

                                               “No, you haven’t. And the more you lie to me the more I get the feeling that I’m not going to want to do it.” Mule insists.

                                               “Even after all of this, after you finally believe I’m who I say I am, you still don’t trust me?” She looks at him like he’s crazy and a little like she wants to smack him upside the head.

                                                “No. I don’t.” Mule looks at her defiantly.

                                                “What more do you want from me?!” The angel exclaims.

                                                “Did she ever love me at all?” Is not the question he wanted to hear coming from his lips.

                                                “No. She didn’t let you die because your soul would have gone to heaven and I’d have found you and brought you back myself. She could have healed your every wound instantly and with ease, but she left you scarred and made sure you were crippled and in constant pain. She encouraged your addiction, every step of the way, and when you were at your lowest, she bought what you didn’t believe you had.

                                                 “But don’t be fooled, you made your own decisions too. You knew you had a problem with the pain killers, but you never sought help. You knew that you were crossing a line when you were offered heroin, but you took it anyway. And when you stole from your mother, from her business…” Lucifer doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t have to. Mule just closes his eyes and buries his face in his hands. Everything she said is true, he can’t deny it.

                                                “But none of that made you evil, Samuel. If you hadn’t sold your soul and had died that night of an overdose anyway, your soul would still have been in heaven.” This makes Mule look up at him. St Lucifer just smiles at him. “You were given a burden greater than you could bear alone. You’re not the first to stumble under the weight, and you won’t be the last. You’re not the first to be lured by the promise of relief from your pain and fall under its spell. It’s an alluring, persuasive, seductive thing. Often more appealing than anything else in your life at the moment.

                                                 “But that’s why it’s called temptation. If it never worked or could be easily resisted it would be such a triumph to successfully resist.” Lucifer shrugs.”Everyone’s fallen at one point. Everyone has temptations they couldn’t resist. Pride, gluttony, lust, especially lust. That’s really the most common consistent one across all the human race. The seven deadly sins should be called the seven most popular sins. Your failings, they just make you human, that’s all. It’s why you need us angels to help take care of you. Of course now you outnumber us several thousand to one and we’ve had to limit our reach to those who pray for our help. And even then.” She shakes her head. The thought occurs to Mule that Lucifer must really love the sound of her own voice.

                                              “If you didn’t help them, would they become evil?”

                                              “Not necessarily. Sometimes it’s just leads others to destruction.  Making the world a little worse can lead to a loss of faith. Sometimes it leads to them or others cursing my father’s name rejecting him and all he has to offer, damning themselves in the process. If you had died that night, I think your mother is the one who would have been lost. She has so much guilt and pain and anger in her already. It would have pushed her over the edge. Worse than it did the first time because she’d gotten you back only for it to end like that.”

                                                 “I don’t want her to know about this. About my soul.” Mule pleads. “Don’t…” The car horn beeps from outside. “That’s mom. I need to go.”He feels extremely childish when he says it but Lucifer just nods. Mule wants to ask if he’ll see the angel again but at the same time he doesn’t so he just gets up and leaves.

                                              St. Lucifer shows up at work the next day in the back with Mule. Nobody seems to notice her. She kneels down and begins to pet one of the more skittish dogs they have who tends to bite when she’s afraid. It just gets as close as it can to the cage door and whimpers a little. Lucifer speaks to it in a language Mule’s never heard. Her voice is soft kind and sympathetic. The dog looks relaxed and relieved almost just drinking in the affection.

                                            “I love dogs.” Lucifer says. “They’re so loving and loyal and the funny thing is that those are also their worst faults. When they’re loving and loyal to the wrong master they become injured, abused, violent, vicious, afraid. They’re so much easier than soulhounds though. They need so little from you.”

                                            “Soul hounds?” Mule can’t help but ask.

                                            “They help the reapers protect and guide souls to their afterlife. They’re very effective with small children who are too scared to move on. Then there are souls being held captive or taken by other beings. Necromancers are especially annoying to reapers. The soul hounds will rip monsters apart to save the captive souls. They’re very strong and very fearsome creatures when they want to be. But they always were.

                                           “When they were created, they were so incredibly violent and vicious and no one knew why or what to do. But they were surrounded by giants and everything preyed on them only they were too strong and destroyed everything in their way that could even possibly be a threat. Father was going to destroy them but I begged him not to, to let me take care of them. They were just afraid. The first one I tamed was a female. I named her Ramses. But Gabrielle killed her during the attack on heaven. I still miss her.

                                            “I trained her and the others. Gradually they became less violent and aggressive, but they began dying out. I begged my father to let me take them up to heaven with me to love and nurture them and train them to fight with us, should we need it. He agreed and had one of my brothers build a kennel. Others were set to guard them. I used to go to there often and help my siblings train them sometimes. They always responded well to me. I haven’t really been able to bring myself to go back now that Ramses is gone. I know it’s foolish of me but still…”

                                            “Do dogs go to heaven?”

                                            “No, they don’t have souls, though they should. They seem to be far more deserving of them than a lot of the people I’ve seen.” Mule just stares at the angel who for a brief moment looks embarrassed as if he didn’t mean to say that. Mule agrees but it just seems to be a strange thing to be coming from one of the saviors of humanity.

                                            “Well, certain owners definitely.” Mule looks back at the most sickly one. “This one won’t eat. We’ve tried for several days, but he just whimpers and looks at us pleadingly but doesn’t touch the food.”

                                             “Poor thing.” Lucifer scratches behind the dog’s ears. “Oh, I see. Jist.” And the poor thing immediately begins scarfing down it’s food. “He’s been trained not to eat anything until told to. Incredibly cruelly, too. Jist is Czech for eat. Just say it when you put the food in and he’ll be fine.”

                                              “Thank you.”

                                              “How are you and your sponsor getting along?”

                                             “Fine. He seems a little concerned that I don’t say much.” Mule shrugs.

                                             “But exactly how much can you tell a civilian?” Lucifer completes his thoughts fairly accurately. “You can talk to me, you know. About absolutely anything. Tell him what you can, but what you can’t… just pray and I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”She smiles and helps him with the dogs the rest of the day. Healing, petting, relaxing the dogs, making Mule’s job very easy. And of course she talks about the earth and her favorite places she used to love before humanity ruined them all. She seems especially annoyed about the rainforests seeing as they’re so new but still so fascinating, but Mule can understand about that.

                                              “Unfortunately, there’s always work that needs to be done. Can we talk a little more after your meeting?” Lucifer asks.

                                              “Can I stop you?” Mule grins. She just winks and vanishes.

 

                                              Dean rubs his eyes and focuses on the road. Of course his mother would realize she had something urgent to do at the office and ask him to pick up his brother last minute. He texted him to let him know he’d be a little late, but that should be fine. His brother’s still not speaking to him, so all he’ll get is that look, if anything at all. The look that says I hate you, how could you? With a little bit of fuck you in there too. One day, one day Sam will give him one look too many and he’ll punch him in the face.

                                              After everything he’s done for the ungrateful brat, Sam still treats him like the villain in the situation. He catches the kid rooting around in the cookie jar andhe has the gall to pretend he was just looking for the last snickerdoodle. Dean has the bank alert him when Sam takes out a large amount of money like a gram of cocaine amount of money or more and Sam acts like Dean’s being unreasonable. Like Dean was just supposed to know Sam had just ordered a custom laptop. He trusted his brother last time and look what happened? Sam betrayed him, his mother, and nearly lost his life in the bargain. It had being going on for months and all because Dean wasn’t paying attention. Well Dean’s paying attention now whether Sam likes it or not. He is not letting anything like that happen again.

                                            Fuck Sam’s ungratefulness, his brattiness, his stubbornness, his defiance and selfishness. Does he think Dean’s not aware how many fights he got in? How much time he spent in solitary? Maybe he thinks Dean didn’t notice that Sam’s sobriety chips are not by any plausibilty enough to cover more than a few month of being clean in prison so even after almost dying, being left by his fiance, going to fucking prison, he didn’t stop. And what, Dean’s supposed to believe he’s clean and sober? He’s moving like he was never injured in the first place and that doesn’t just happen. 

                                  The cars are all gone so Sam’s probably waiting inside. When Dean gets to the church door he can hear his brother talking to someone, kind of quietly. He opens the door and sees Sam sitting on a pew talking to a young woman. This might be a good thing. Help him get over Bree, though he’s supposed to abstain from sex for a while according to the program. God only knows he doesn’t need to go from being a heroin addict to being a sex addict.

                                 “Sammy. Time to go home.” He announces. Sam turns and gives him that ‘dont call me Sammy’ look. The young woman looks back at him too, looking a little surprised at his presence. Her face seems familiar. Where did he see…. “Sam, go to the car.”

                                  “I’ll talk to you later.” Mule says as the woman gets out of the pew to let him out.

                                  “NOW, Sam!” Dean just keeps looking at the woman who stays still. He slowly moves his hand to his gun, and takes his eyes off her for all of two seconds to looks at Sam as he passes. When he looks back she’s gone. “Get in the car, Sam.” He draws his gun “And stay there.”

                                 “What the hell are you doing?” Sam exclaims as he sees him.

                                 “GET IN THE DAMN CAR!” Dean yells and grabs his radio to call for back up. He slowly goes in, searching every aisle. He sees nothing. He hears nothing but he’s own footsteps. All the other doors are locked. The only place left to hide behind is the podium. He takes a breath and steps around, aiming into the dark space underneath. Nothing. Nothing in the curtains, and still no sounds to indicate where she went. When the others arrive he directs them to check the church and surrounding area for her. He’s going to take his brother down to the station to get his statement.

                                 “What’s going on?” Mule demands as Dean gets in the driver’s seat.

                                 “That’s what I’d like to know.” Dean clenches his teeth.

                                 “I was talking to some woman in the church waiting for you to come get me, you came in freaked out drew your gun and sent me to the car.

                                 “Did you see her come out the front door?”

                                 “No.”

                                 “Do you have any idea who your were talking too, Sam?”

                                 “A beautiful woman?” Mule shrugs.

                                 “Did you know that woman was a prostitute?”

                                 “No,” Sam sounds annoyed. “I also didn’t know that would be a reason to draw your weapon.” Dean ignores the last comment.

                                  “Well she is, and not just any prostitute one that murdered five men in an incredibly gruesome way, mutilating their bodies before she killed them. Mary Beth Stanton. She was on death row until a few days ago when she somehow escaped. They put out an APB for her yesterday. So you are going right to the station and giving a statement. And in this statement you had better be telling the goddamn truth.”

                                    “She was just there. I figured she had come too late for the meeting and didn’t want to go home quite yet. We talked about puppies and nature and stuff.”

                                    “Did she offer you sex for money?”

                                    “No!”

                                    “Did she just plain offer you sex?

                                    “No.”

                                     “Did she offer you drugs? Did you take any? Keep in mind I will be searching you when we get to the station.”

                                    “No, no and no you fucking won’t.”

                                    “Yes, I fucking will.”

                                    “What’s your reasonable cause?”

                                    “I know you, that’s my fucking reasonable cause.”

                                    “Fuck you!”

                                     “No, fuck you, Sam! You have put this family through hell and you don’t even seen to care! What’s worse you seem to think we should just act like it never fucking happened. Well it did. You abused our trust and our goodwill and generosity. You stole from Mom, Sam. MOM! And what’s worse you stole from the garage, Dad’s garage. His freaking legacy to mom, to us. And you didn’t even fucking HAVE TO! You could have asked me for the money in the emergency fund. There was more than enough!”

                                    “Oh just ask you. I was suppose to just ask you. And how was I supposed to do that? Like you wouldn’t  have put me through twenty questions. And what was I supposed to say? Give me a couple thousand dollars, I need to buy some cocaine so I can fuck my fiancee once or twice a week for the next month?”

                                     “You’re supposed to NOT USE COCAINE!” Dean explodes. “You’re supposed to turn it down when someone offers you heroin. When you find yourself addicted to painkillers you’re supposed to fucking tell somebody and ask for help. And failing all of that you could have fucking lied to me about what you wanted it for!” 

                                      “And that would have been just fine.” Mule rolls his eyes.

                                      “It would be a hell of a lot better than embezzlement and STEALING FROM OUR MOTHER! You betrayed us, Sam! You hurt us. Maybe mom’s forgiven you for what you did to her but I haven’t. And I won’t until you’ve taken some fucking responsibility for your own actions and stop acting like some wounded entitled selfish brat! You want us to trust you again? Then you have to fucking EARN IT! And you haven’t, understand? Not by a long shot. And it will take you a long fucking time to earn it back from either of us. Do you understand me?”

                                       “I’m clean Dean and I have been for…” Mule stops before he screws himself.

                                      “For what? Two and a half years? Are you going to say that? Don’t you fucking dare. You are an addict, Sam. And an addict is always an addict. They always relapse. Always. You are a ticking time bomb, Sam, and we’re all just waiting for you to blow up and fuck us all over again. Just do me a favor and when you do go back to heroin. Just come to me and say three little words, just three words and nothing else. ‘I need Rehab’ and I will take you there, no questions asked, not a single one. Understand me? Because if you don’t and I find you some other way, If I have fucking evidence, I will report you to your parole officer myself and arrest you again. Do I make myself clear?”

                       “Crystal.” Mule clenches his teeth and looks out the window. It’s a long night at the station, an even longer night when he gets home, just full of rage and fury. He hates Dean for treating him that way and he hates himself for deserving it. He hates himself, he hates his life and he hates the future he has in store for him. Most of all he hates how badly he wants a hit right now. He can feel the pain in his left side though he knows it’s not there. He can feel the pain in his head, his heart, his lungs everywhere just crying for relief. 

                        “I’m here.” Lucifer wraps his arms around the curled up ball of pain and longing. “Samuel, I’m here. Everything will be alright.”

                        “Why are you wearing a murderer?” Mule demands shoving the angel away.

                        “Because she was raped and tortured and broken and lost her mind. But the jury didn’t care at all, they just saw a black prostitute who did terrible things to white upper class men. She wanted salvation and I chose to reassure her that she would be saved, though she really didn’t need it. She was already crying out for mercy and forgiveness which means she had it. But if she didn’t realize she had it she might have turned her back on god and forfeited her soul. I asked her to be my vessel in return. She won’t survive the experience. She knows that. She’s accepted that. I’m sorry for the trouble I caused you. Your brother surprised me. It seems he and your mother have been warded against detection by angels, even me, fallen and heavenly alike.” He apologizes.

                          “I see.” Mule takes a breath. “What do you mean she won’t survive the experience? I thought vessels possessed by angels were practically immortal. “

                           “That is the case, when possessed by just an angel. But you see, I’m an archangel. My power compared to theirs is like theirs compared to yours. No ordinary vessel can contain me for long. What’s more it stifles me and I have to use so much power just to hold it together for a few days. She’s already starting to wear out.” The face of the beautiful woman ripples and Sam can see the wounds and sores over her neck chest face arms as if the body is just burning or peeling away from the outside. “Tomorrow she’ll be back in her cell, dead and I’ll have to choose a new one.”

                             “You’re… you’re just going to take and destroy these bodies? Kill these people and you’re okay with that?”

                            “I only take those who would die shortly anyways. Those who just need a final push towards salvation, a show of faith and sacrifice to tip the scales. A reason to believe they’ll be forgiven. It’s a blessing for them. An honor they could never otherwise deserve. And a gift, to choose how they die and they choose to die in the service of the most high and are ensured their divine reward.”

                            “That.. that’s still… I don’t know how I feel about that.”

                            “I don’t have any other choice right now. Not until my true vessel, the one built specifically to contain me accepts his purpose and lets me in.” Lucifer looks at him with a soft smile. Mule widens his eyes, finally realizing what the angel wants from him.


	16. Brotherly Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets hurt  
> Lucifer passes up an opportunity  
> the angel breaks

                 St, Lucifer doesn’t ask for an answer. In fact he just tells him they’ll talk more, once he finds a new vessel and to think of any questions he might have. When Mule wakes up in the morning he looks in the mirror and sees his face, whole and unscarred. This leads further credence to his guess that Lucifer wanted a vessel. Mule wasn’t handsome enough with his scars. It is kind of flattering to think that he is now. He knew he wasn’t ugly but St. Lucifer levels attractive is kind of something.

                  He takes off his shirt and looks at his left side. Completely unscarred. Even stripping naked, there’s not a scar or mark or discoloration to be found. Except on his back. The scars there have been untouched. Maybe St. Lucifer found the contrast with the remaining flower tattoos beautiful and meaningful as well. Oh but jesus, how is he going to explain this to everyone?

                   There’s a knock on his door.

                  “Sam, hurry up or you’re going to be late for work.” Mary informs him. Mule quickly puts his pants back on and goes to the door.

                   “Mom?” He cracks it open.

                   “Yes?”

                   “Don’t freak out but something’s happened.”

                   “Okay?” She raises an eyebrow and he opens the door. “And what’s happened is… what?”

                   “My scars are gone. Almost all of them.” he corrects himself. Mary just reaches up to his face and strokes his cheek. 

                   “They really are aren’t they? The doctor said they’d fade with time. I guess they really did and I didn’t even notice it happening.” She kisses his other cheek. “I don’t understand why you’re upset about it, though.”

                    “It just… it was so sudden.” he trips all over his words.

                    “It’s taken three years, that’s not that sudden.” She shakes her head and heads back down stairs. “I’ll microwave you a breakfast sandwich while you get dressed.”

                    “Okay.” Mule finds his work shirt and jeans. The doctor did not say that. He made it very clear that it would require extensive plastic surgery and that his insurance would not pay for it. And it did not get any better. When he goes to work his boss doesn’t notice either. Though she’s definitely more friendly than usual. Everybody’s more friendly than usual. Little children aren’t afraid of him any more which is the best thing and the waitress at the diner he goes to for lunch actually slips him her number. He feels a little more human again. At the same time he feels uneasy, ashamed of his own vanity, and a little depressed at the difference it makes. He wonders if Lucifer didn’t want him as her vessel, would she have done this? Maybe Mule isn’t the one with the vanity problem. 

                     Unfortunately he can’t help but see it for what it is, beyond the likely scenario of Lucifer being too vain to use a scarred vessel. It’s a bribe. Payment for services not yet rendered. And as likely as not if he refuses, all these gifts will be taken away again. For all he knows it was Lucifer influencing the judge that got him released and put on probation in the first place. He could find himself back in prison facing two and a half more years. Now that he’s out, the thought of going back is almost terrifying.

                       But he doesn’t know that. Lucifer’s supposed to be the good guy here. What exactly is she asking of him though. What does it mean to be a vessel? What does she actually need a vessel for? Why can’t she just out right tell him what she wants? What’s the real price he pays for being a vessel? Why does Lucifer have to be so goddamn slippery and evasive and manipulative about everything? What’s the right thing to do? If he would only tell Mule the damn truth!

                     It’s a frosty ride home from work with his brother. The worst part is being driven in a police car in the back seat. Nothing like reminding him he’s a criminal every damn day. At night, sure enough Mary Beth Stanton is found back in her cell, dead with unexplained injuries, open sores all over her body. She’d been due to be executed that day. Mule’s still not sure how he feels about that. Lucifer is an angel, supposedly a good one. That isn’t how a good angel is supposed to act, is it?

                     The next day is his day off. When his mother goes to work he takes a root beer from the fridge, the only beer she has in the house now a days. He sits on the porch for a few minutes before calling Bobby. He tells him everything he knows so far.

                     “And you still don’t think he’s being honest with you.”

                     “I know he’s not. I don’t know why, exactly. I just… have this feeling you know, when he’s being disingenuous.”

                     “I don’t like this whole vessel thing. He’s asking you to… to give him your body to use. When Fallen angels take your body, they don’t tend to give them back. And then there’s the question of when he’s in your body, where are you? And is he ever going to give it back?”

                     “I don’t know.”

                     “Well, is he at least going to get your soul back from the nightingale?”

                     “He says he’ll try. That if I died before he got it back for me, he’d send the heavenly host into hell to try and get me back.”

                      “Try. I don’t exactly hear a guarantee in that. And if he changes his mind then you’re just shit out of luck.”

                      “I know. But I think he really meant that one.” Mule takes a drink.

                      “ And besides, you’re on probation, kid. You’re getting your life back together. We just got you back. Again. If he wants you to sacrifice everything you hold dear, he’d better have a better damn reason other than that he’s Lucifer and he’s asking for it. Especially if there’s no guarantee that he can get your soul back from the nightingale. Though honestly, I’m pretty sure if she knew, your mother would storm the gates of hell and drag your soul out herself.” 

                        “Yeah, that sounds like her.” Mule grins. “And why I don’t want to tell her. It won’t matter if I’m gone, though, if I do this. I mean she’ll still have Dean and he’s her favorite.”

                        “Yeah, maybe but that don’t mean she don’t love you more than almost anything else in the world. She broke down when you died, Samuel. Went straight off her rocker. Probably would have gotten herself killed if they hadn’t gotten her committed.”

                         “Wait what? Mom was in a psych ward? And I’m assuming by ‘they’ you mean Dean and Jo. Well if you needed proof he’s her favorite, there’s the fact that he’s still alive.”

                        “Just whatever you do, don’t just disappear. She will look for you and she will find you. And don’t push her away or some dumb shit like that ‘for her own good’ You’ve already broken her heart twice, she don’t need that from you a third time, she don’t deserve it.”

                        “No, she doesn’t.” Mule takes a breath and tries to think, but he can’t. Sometimes it’s all just too much to process.

                         “Let me know if you get more information. And you just keep asking questions until you’re satisfied with the answers. Don’t forget, just because he’s good doesn’t mean he won’t make you suffer. The most righteous people can do some of the most horrible things.”

                         “Okay, Bobby.”

                         “And just try not to do anything stupid.”

                         “I won’t.”

                         One good thing about the day, too, is that Dean’s unavailable the entire day. He not only has a full workday, but afterwards he and Jo are going to some charity dinner at the governor’s mansion and won’t be back until late. It’ll just be him and his mom. Mule sends her a text saying that he’ll take care of dinner and preorders some chinese. That way even if she’s late, it’ll still taste good.

                           Mule actually ends up falling asleep in his chair after lunch. The workout he did that morning really wore him out, but it helped him clear his head a little. He’s woken by his phone. His mother is calling.

                           “Don’t worry mom, dinner’s coming at five.” he rubs his eyes.

                           “Dean’s been shot.” She says abruptly.

                           “What?”

                           “He’s in the hospital, they took him into surgery. He took a shot gun blast to the chest. He was changing for the dinner when the guy came in. He didn’t have on his vest.”

                           “What hospital?” Sam demands.

                           “Smith Center. Jo’s here with me.”

                           “I’ll be right there.” He hangs up and runs out of the house to get his motorcycle. The delivery guy arrives just at that moment, so he just signs the slip, takes the food and puts it in the compartment under his seat. It’s kind of a good thing. After all they’ll still need to eat at some point.

 

                            “ He’s still in surgery.” Mary says, her arm around Jo, rubbing her back. One of Dean’s deputies is sitting there as well, his uniform a little bloody.

                             “What happened?” Mule realizes as he says it that it’s probably not the time to ask.

                             “Some-one in a rain-coat came in asking for the Sheriff. As soon as he saw him, he pulled out a sawed off and shot him yelling ‘this is for my brother you f-ing pig’. We’re still not sure who he is yet, or how he got it through security, but he’s dead.” Allen informs him blankly.

                              “Who shot the shooter?”

                              “Officially I did” Allen continues his voice as flat as ever. “Two shots right between the eyes. Mrs. Winchester was having me check out her gun and see if it’s an appropriate kind for concealed carry. It was already in my hands and I didn’t think to use my service pistol.”

                               “Thank you.” Mary smiles at him and just rests her head on Jo’s. They all sit there for a few hours waiting for news. Finally someone comes out and pulls Jo aside and talks to her. She just listens and nods. When the doctor turns to leave, Mule follows him.

                                 “Hey,” he puts a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’m his brother. Tell me. Will he be okay? If not.. Just… tell me. I can handle it.”The doctors face doesn’t make him feel too hopeful.

                                  “There’s a chance he’ll be fine.” Is the non answer.

                                  “How much of a chance? Fifty fifty? Sixty fourty?”

                                  “Probably closer to seventy thirty.” the doctor winces.

                                  “So a seventy percent chance of surviving?” Mule asks. The man shakes his head. “Thirty. Okay. Thank you.”

                                   “But the longer he goes without dying the better his chances.”

                                   “Okay.”

                                   “I’m sorry.” the doctor looks at him sympathetically.  Mule just nods and leans against the wall, his hands covering his face as he wipes his eyes off.

                                    “So, Lucifer.” Mule says quietly. “My brother’s been shot. It doesn’t look good.” he goes to continue but he can’t. He can’t ask. He can’t just say yes.. Dean… he’ll be fine. He’s a fighter, right? Hell if Sam survived worse, Dean absolutely can survive this. He’ll never give up. Not with a baby on the way. But if Lucifer came and asked him right now, in exchange for his brother’s life, he won’t be able to say no.

 

                                    Mule sits in the hospital room. Allen had to work. So he left as soon as Dean got out of surgery. They told everyone else they were hopeful. Mule sat in the waiting room with Jo while their mother was beside Dean. He sat with his mother when Jo was with him. He ran errands, brought them food, he had to talk them into eating. He called his sponsor a few times and went to an NA meeting. Right now Jo and his mother went home to get some sleep and a shower, because Mule promised to keep watch.

                                    Dean’s on a breathing tube. He hasn’t woken up yet. He’d stopped breathing for several minutes, enough for serious oxygen deprivation. They had to remove parts of his lung. His heart got away with a few nicks, no punctures. A few veins had to be repaired, and one artery after they took out the shot. A lot of the shells had to be carefully removed without damaging anything in the process. His ribs are oddly fine with a few nicks but nothing cracked or broken even when one or two of the shots seemed to be stopped by them. It was as confusing as all the marks on his ribs the x-rays showed. Mule signed up to be a donor in case one of Dean’s lungs fails completely , which might happen. He’s waiting for the test result. Lucifer doesn’t show up.

                                     Mule keeps thinking about his older brother, but all he can remember are bad things. Dean pushing him down to take the last bowl of cereal, telling him to go away. Ignoring him and telling friends on the phone how annoying his dorky little brother is. Scolding him, telling on him, bossing him around all the time. He remembers Dean teaching him how to drive because their mother’s more of a stunt man than a driving instructor. And besides he wasn’t even sure the impala was even street legal. But all he remembers about it is the yelling and bossiness and nitpicking every little thing he did. It was infuriating, though he did pass.

                                       He remembers being ignored whenever Dean was around. Often by his mother. He remembers knowing that Jo would never really care for him as much as she did Dean. Being constantly reminded what a good student Dean was, what a great athlete, how popular, how handsome, how tall. How kind how fucking perfect. Knowing he’d never measure up or ever impress anyone who knows anything about Dean. Even when he excelled it was ‘I’d expect nothing less from Dean Winchester’s little brother.’

                                       He remembers how even when he came home from Iraq, there were the lectures, orders, that heavy handed overbearing know it all attitude that made Mule’s blood boil. The suspicion, the condescension, the arrest, the campaign, All the people who tried to kill him because of who is brother was. And now it’s even worse. Now Mule is nothing but a junkie and criminal to Dean, a problem and inconvenience greater than he ever was before and it looks like he’ll never be anything else.

                                     After all, after the car accident, he never let Mule drive his car again. Reminding him what happened the last time. And maybe it wasn’t actually Mule, maybe it was Dean driving. But he’d probably be in trouble if Dean found out about that, too. With all this, Mule wonders why he even wants his brother to survive. He decides it’s because of how much it’d hurt mom if he didn’t. If she went crazy because of him, she’d go even further off the deep end if it was Dean. She might never recover.

                                    “I’m sorry, I’m late.” Mule looks up to see a handsome young man on the other side of Dean’s bed. “I had a hard time finding the vessel.”

                                    “Who’d think anyone would object to having their body slowly corroded away in a long drawn out death?” Mule says dryly. He’d probably have found a vessel earlier if he expanded his search beyond ’could have been a supermodel’. But the look Lucifer gives him at his first sarcastic comment makes him keep the second to himself

                                     “You are an ungrateful brat, Samuel Winchester.” the angel reaches down and gently taps Dean on the forehead. “He’ll be alright. Are you?”   Mule just nods, waiting for the sales pitch. “You should get some sleep.”

                                      “I will.” Mule looks down at his hands. When Mule looks back up again, the angel’s gone and Dean starts choke on his breathing tube. “NURSE!” Mule calls and is shoved out of the room while nurses and doctors come in to check on him. While he’s waiting he calls his mother. “Hi mom? Dean’s awake. Let Jo drive. We don’t need you wrecking the car speeding here on the back roads.” Fortunately for him his mother hangs up after ‘Dean’s awake.’ By the time the doctors get him unhooked and checked out Jo and their mother still haven’t arrived. But they text him ‘stuck in traffic’ It is a holiday weekend but he can just hear his mother telling Jo off for not using the back roads.

                                        “ Can I go in?” Mule asks as the nurse leaves. She nods and sends him in. Dean looks exhausted. But he gives a little smile when his little brother walks in. “Jo and Mom are on their way. They’re stuck in traffic. I finally talked them into going home to get some rest. So I’m never going to hear the end of that.” Mule shrugs with a twitch of a smile.

                                         “Did you make it to your meeting?” Is of course the first thing out of Dean’s mouth. Mule just looks at him. “It’s important, Sam.” Of course. “Don’t forget the drug tests.” Mule gives a bitter smile and shakes his head. “I’ll have Jo drive you.

                                          “Dean, you’re my brother and I love you. I’m glad you’re going to be okay, but my life was so much better without you in it.” There’s a moment of silence as Mule turns to walk out.

                                         “Right back atcha, Sammy.”Dean replies looking away. “Right back atcha.” When Jo and Mary finally arrive. Mule leave to go home.

                                           “Hey.” Lucifer greets Mule as he goes to his bike. “Are you free to talk?”

                                           ‘’Sure, but not here.” Mule puts on his helmet. “Somewhere a little more secluded.” Where the vessel won’t be recognized.

                                            “Mind if I ride with you?” The angel asks.

                                            “Sure, hop on.” Mule says after a minute. Lucifer sits behind him and holds onto his waist. The feeling of a body behind him makes him think of Bree and all the times she rode with him. He can’t help it. He knows he shouldn’t miss her, shouldn’t still have feelings for her, but he does. There’s a nice meadow off a dirt road halfway home so he drives them there. Given the dreams it’s the sort of place Lucifer seems to prefer. “Enjoy the ride?”

                                             “It was a little slow, but I did enjoy the feeling of the wind in my hair.” The angel runs his fingers back through the shoulder length locks, putting them back in place. “Are you ready to talk?”

                                              “Are you?” Mule retorts. “Why do you need a vessel?”

                                              “ Because I can’t interact with this plane of existence without one without destroying things.”

                                               “Why do you need to interact with this plane of existence?”

                                               “My sister needs help and I need my full power to do so.”

                                               “What do you need from me? How long do you need me for?”

                                              “I’m not sure. Weeks, maybe months, a year. It all depends on how well we do. As for what I need from you,your body a little blood, and your help. There are a few places I can’t go that you can.”

                                              “Fair enough.” Mule thinks about these answers. True but still incomplete.

                                              “As my vessel, you won’t age, you won’t grow old or get sick. You won’t die.”

                                             “But where will I be, when you’re there.”

                                             “Mostly resting, dreaming sweet dreams, healing dreams. If I need you I’ll pull you up front with me so we can talk.”

                                             “And you can’t do this with anyone else. It has to be me.”

                                             “I’ve tried and I couldn’t do it. My vessels all keep wearing out when I needed them the most. The harder I tried the quicker they wore out.”

                                             “Is there any possible way that you can wait a year or so?”

                                             “No.” Lucifer looks at him, his eyes pleading with him. “Please help me.”

                                              “Is there anything else I should know? Anything important you’re leaving out?”

                                              “No.” Lucifer shakes his head, lying again. He’s still hiding something.

                                               “No.” Mule says coldly.

                                               “No?”Lucifer looks so shocked and not a little dismayed.

                                               “No, I won’t be your vessel.” Mule states firmly again.

                                                “You’re saying no? After everything I’ve done for you and you’re saying no?”It’s hard to interpret the look in his eyes.

                                                 “I’m saying no.”

                                                 “WHY!”

                                                 “ I have my reasons.” and he’s not going to say them just to let the angel try to pick them apart either.

                                                  “ You ungrateful selfish little brat.”

                                                  “ And you’re an arrogant condescending manipulative goddamn lying son of a b..” Mule doesn’t even get to finish before the angel slaps him across the face. Hard. So hard he’s fairly sure he’ll have a hand shaped bruise for weeks. Maybe a broken cheek bone.

                                                   “I thought I told you to watch your language.” Lucifer glares at him in a way that belies the coolness in his voice and the increasing chill in the air. At that moment, Mule breaks. All the rage and anger and frustration seething deep within him erupts and he attacks the angel with an angry cry. The first hit actually hurts, much to Lucifer’s surprise, until he sees the tattoos on the knuckles of his right hand, still new and not completely healed yet. Clearly gotten specifically to fuck with him. With a mounting fury, Lucifer attacks right back, blocking Mule’s attacks, tripping him and trying to pin him to the ground. “WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME!” The angel screams in his frustration.

                                                    “How about some FUCKING HONESTY!” Mule goes for another hit before getting a fist to the diaphragm, the face, a kick to the side of his knee and is thrown down on the ground so hard his vision blurs. For  second he can barely see the enraged angel kneeling over him with his fist poised to strike again. With a cry of anguish he punches the ground next to Mule’s head, cracking the earth with the blow. For the first time in a while, Mule feels absolute terror.

                                                       Much to his surprise, Lucifer keeps his fist on the earth and his other hand clutching Mule’s shirt and begins to cry. Not pretty attractive silent tears, but pain filled ones with cries of utter despondency. He even tries to hide his face, bowing his head down almost resting on Mule’s chest. But Mule already saw the red runny nose and pained expression maring the beauty of his face. The flood of tears is like the grief and sorrow of a thousand years breaking through the dam. In fact half of the ones falling from his eyes form solid crystal tear drops that tumble over Mule’s body like hail.

                                                    Mule sucks in the pain and pushes himself up. Lucifer lets himself be pushed up as well. Mule puts his arms around the weeping angel, letting him bury his head on Mule’s chest. Mule gently rubs his back and hums Hey Jude. He knows better to sing as he doesn’t have the greatest singing voice.

                                            “Maybe… maybe we can work something out.” Mule says gently, when the tears finally stop, and Lucifer works on regaining his composure. “Just.. you have to tell me the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, not bits and pieces of it that you feel like telling me. Without trying to manipulate or bribe me or beating me into submission.”

                                           “I wasn’t trying to beat you into submission. I need a partner in this, not a prisoner or a slave. I just… I lost my temper. I’m sorry.”

                                            “I’m sorry, too.” Mule apologizes. “I lost mine just like you did and half of it wasn’t even about you.”

                                             “Likewise.” Lucifer moves off of Mule’s lap and sits down beside his legs. “Here.” he reaches over and taps Mule’s forehead, healing his injuries before the angel wipes off his face with his hands, restoring it to its former glory. “And you can keep these.” He snaps the piles of crystal tears into a cloth bag. “Angel tears are very valuable. Mine are even more powerful than usual. They could come in handy.”

                                               “Lucifer, I need you to tell me the truth. Why is that so hard?” Mule asks gently.

                                                “If you could please stop calling me Lucifer, I’d appreciate it. I hate that nickname. My real name is Helel Ben Sahar. But just call me Helel.”

                                                “Alright. Then can you stop with that Samuel stuff, and call me Mule?”

                                                “Sure, I’ll call you Mule.”

                                                 “So are you going to tell me?”

                                                 “I can’t. If I do you’ll never help me.”

                                                 “How do you know that?” 

                                                 “Because nobody would. Even I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.” Helel can’t look him in the eye. Mule just puts his hand on the angels back, gently rubbing it.

                                                  “Helel, you’re asking me to trust you with my life, my body, my very existence. And yet you’re not willing to trust in me at all. I know I’m… I’m nothing compared to you, trash even. But you said you wanted a partnership. No, that you needed one. You can’t have that without trust and it has to go both ways. Just think about it. And when you’re ready, you can come talk to me again.”

                                                   “Mule.” Helel lifts his head as Mule stands up. “You’re not nothing and you’re definitely not trash. You’re a kind, brave, loyal, loving, amazing soldier. Your men loved you. You saved so many lives. You’re honorable, compassionate, a little too strong willed, and intelligent. That’s who you are, Mule. You are First Sergeant Samuel Henry Winchester, USMC, Special Forces. So you suffered greatly and fell into darkness. That’s not a rare thing. And that’s not who you are. You’re a hero, and man of virtue and nobody, nobody can take that away from you.”  

                                                    “Thank you.” Mule says and watches the angel disappear before going back to his bike and heading home.

 


	17. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helel tells Mule the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Mule looks in the mirror. When did he forget he was a marine? When did he start dressing so sloppy. Letting his hair grow so long, leaving his bed and his room this way. When did he stop taking pride in his appearance, his manners, his behavior? When did he forget everything he stood for, fought for? Helel was right he’s First Sergeant Samuel Henry Winchester, USMC Special forces. He should act like it.

                      After a brief stop at the tattoo parlor, he spends the whole day doing laundry, cleaning his room, organizing his things, and cleaning the whole house and doing yard work. When his mother gets home, she’s pleasantly surprised to find him mowing the lawn.

                     “Sam, I picked up some ribs, coleslaw and potato salad. Let me know when you’re ready for me to heat this up.” She lifts the grocery bags.

                    “I should be ready in an hour. Thanks, mom.” He smiles at her and finishes the lawn before going upstairs to shower. Dinner is on the table when he comes down. He makes a plate and heads to the living room where is mother’s setting her plate on her tray. When he puts his down, she goes over and hands him a cold bottle of rootbeer.  “Thanks.” He takes it then puts an arm around her shoulders hugging her. “I’ve never really thanked you for everything you’ve done for me. Not when I came home, not when I was a child, and not after prison. I owe you so much and I’ve just been an ungrateful brat.”

                    “Yeah, a little.” she teases. “But you’re my baby boy, and I’ll always be your mom. You don’t owe me anything.” She squeezes him a little. “I love you Sam-a-lam.” It’s the first time she’s called him Sam-a-lam since months before the trial. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

                     “I love you too Mom.” He gives her a kiss on the cheek and sits down. “Wheel of fortune?”

                     “You know it.” Mary reaches out to toast him with her root beer. They clink bottles and chow down. Both fall asleep in front of the TV. It’s probably the best day he’s had in a while.

                     That night he dreams of a night he and his men had in a karaoke bar after a successful mission, where he’d gotten drunk enough to actually sing. They’re all laughing into their beers with the occasional ‘Oh my god.” from Aaron in second hand embarrassment and a ‘good god you suck, Sarge. For which he punishes them with some Tom Jones

                      “Of for the love of all that is and ever will be. Please tell me you’re pranking them.” Helel appears just shaking his head. “Let’s go somewhere less excruciating.” He snaps his fingers and the scene becomes an empty campsite on a peruvian hillside. There’s a full moon shining in the sky. “Do you see it?” Helel points up at the sky. “Venus, known as the morning star. I know it’s a planet but Michael placed it there and named it after me. She placed the stars you know. Dad gave her instructions but she did the work while I was in charge of delegating the care and maintenance of the earth and all that’s on it. Gabrielle was the messenger going back and forth between us. She was never good at keeping still so that helped keep her out of trouble for the most part.”

                       “Gabrielle, you mean the nightingale?”

                       “Yes. She wasn’t always this way. She broke under a burden she was never meant to bear. What was supposed to be mine. I was made for it, you see. Beautiful, charming, intelligent, more so than any other angel. To this day the little ones hold me in awe and reverence for the sheer magnificence of my countenance. You don’t believe me?” Helel raises and eyebrow at the twitch on the side of Mule’s mouth, almost a smile.

                         “I believe you.” He reassures the angel.

“In the very beginning God created the heavens and the earth. And in heaven he made Michael, an angel of flame and passion. And he raised her and left her alone to work on his creations. Michael was lonely and God took mercy on her and created for her an angel, beautiful and pure like the water itself. He named me Helel Ben Sahar. After that he made his first mistake and from a lump of metal and earth, he created Raphael, an angel of healing and growth.

                        “From the very beginning that waste of intent tried to take from me everything I held dear, my father, Michael. He even trying to snatch the feathers off my wings even though as soon as he let go they came right back to me. Not to mention the traps he laid for me to fall into when I would walk across the garden. Finally Father noticed my torment and made for me a little sister, all laughter and smiles formed from light and wind. Her voice was like the voice of God and the beauty of her songs melted my heart. She loved me and I loved her. She herself was my favorite song, my little Gabrielle.

                     “In those days there was also the darkness and nothing was safe from her. She was stronger than our father, the light. But he was smarter. He made a plan and confided it to me and me alone. I was made to appeal to her most of all. He would plead with her to let him create and stop destroying his creations before they could even be completed. He’d let her see my siblings as examples and ‘hid’ me poorly. When she found me I would be given to her and when she hurt me, a mark given to me by my father would bind her to a cage hidden deep within the earth, sealed by the planet itself. And I would be the lock keeping her and her destructive nature shut away for all eternity.

                          “Only, when it came time for me to go to her. I was afraid and I hesitated not more than a second or two. But it more than a enough for Gabrielle to interfere. She laughed at me calling the darkness an idiot. She told her this was a trick. That I was nothing but empty beauty and had no real light of my own. As I moved forwards the darkness saw that I dimmed the farther I got from my father’s light. She became angry before Gabrielle told her she’d go with her instead. That she wasn’t as pretty but she could sing and you don’t need light to hear a song. Then she started singing the songs of creation and the darkness agreed to take her instead. She didn’t know what we were trying to do. Unfortunately father had no choice then but to give the mark to her and let her go with no time to explain. He just begged the darkness not to touch her as it would hurt her.

                              “The darkness, upon having her, drew Gabrielle to her but the darkness was much too stifling and burned her with it’s touch, making her cry out in pain. The mark activated and bound the darkness into the earth, but Gabrielle kept screaming and crying until all she could do was wimper. Raphael got to her first and cradled her in his arms doing his best to heal her and take away her pain. He did. It was the only time I ever felt grateful for his existence.

                               “But the pain didn’t stay away. The pain and darkness kept slowly seeping into her, torturing and corrupting her. Raphael healed her again and again, but it never lasted long enough. It took less and less time to come back. Until one day she was ‘playing’ with the children in the garden, who did not find her humorous. They were desperate to find some relief from her, so they took the fruit from the tree of knowledge, as suggested by a friendly serpent, a friend of Gabrielle’s, hoping to learn what they needed to do to be free of her. They’d knowingly disobeyed one of only two rules given to them, Don’t eat from the Tree of Knowledge and don’t eat from the Tree of Life. And they were cast out upon the earth.

                               “Gabrielle was frightened. She knew she was to blame and she was afraid of what Michael might do if she found out. The angel of truth wouldn’t let her get away with just lying about it, so in her desperation, she found that angel, Amitiel, drew her blade and killed the young angel then and there. There was nothing I could do for her after that. She had corrupted the first men and slain one of her brethren. She was no longer fit to reside in heaven she was exiled to the earth below.

                   “Father, when he sentenced her, looked to me and I knew he was going to ask me to be the one to cast her out. I desperately prayed that he wouldn’t when Michael stepped forward to claim responsibility for enacting her punishment. Being the eldest it was her job not only to enforce the rules and keep us in line, but punish the rule breakers. So it was her responsibility to cast our sister out. Michael was always looking out for me. I did my best in return. When she cast Gabrielle out, Raphael turned his back on heaven and went after her, catching her, and breaking her fall.

                         “While Michael and I agreed on a lot of things, we did not see eye to eye on the subject of Raphael. Gabrielle was my favorite song and for some unknowable reason, Raphael was hers. When he left heaven, Michael stepped forwards to try and catch him and drag him back, but I stood in her way to keep her from transgressing herself. Raphael had made his choice. All Michael could do is leave the way open in case he decided to return. When he didn’t Michael started to fall into despair.

“ My sister and I are so close. We love each other more than anything. We were

partners, we were friends and colleagues, siblings in the best and brightest meaning of the world. We’d do almost anything for each other. So when I saw what Raphael’s absence was doing to her, how much she was hurting, I decided to go out and bring him back to her myself, whether he liked it or not.

        “Talking would do no good. He hates me as much as I hate him and never listened to a word I said anyway. But I tried talking to him. I tried telling him how much Michael missed him, how depressed and heartbroken she was. But he wouldn’t listen. All he said was that he was never going to leave his wife Gabrielle’s side. It wasn’t the first I’d heard that blasphemy. Gabrielle herself had told me when I saw her previously. Something I did as often as I could slip away. I’d hoped she was joking or just being provocative with the tasteless humor she’d grown so fond of. Especially when she said my objection was pointless because they’d been lovers for milenium before this so she figured she might as well make an honest man of him.”

                     “She’s married.” Mule blurts out as the words stab through his heart which has no business being able to be hurt by this at all.

                       “Yes, they’re married.” Helel repeats quietly. “He was supposed to heal her, help  protect her from the darkness not lead her further in! I was so angry. Not only did I have to get him back to Michael but I had to get him as far as Gabrielle as I could. Maybe, maybe without his seduction and complicity I could convince her to transfer the mark to me where it belonged. I’d begged, pleaded with her so many times to give it to me, but she always refused. She said she could never let me hurt the way she did. I tried to tell her that it wouldn’t because I was made to take it, but she’d never listen.

                 “So, I did what I had to, what Michael couldn’t. I found Raphael and convinced him to talk to me by offering to spare two nephilim babies. He had been trying to help a woman survive giving birth to them. As usual it didn’t work.  I know it sounds heartless that we’d kill them at all, but if you think fallen angels are bad, nephilim are so much worse. A lot of the old gods and demigods were actually nephilim. And they were terrible, calling for blood and murder and worship and the persecution of others.  We killed most of them in the flood at the end of the nephilim wars, but there were always more. If we allowed any to live, none of humanity would have been safe. Do you understand? We had to.” Helel looks deeply into Mule’s eyes more than a little distressed.

                          Mule just nods. He does understand. What insurgents did, strapping bombs to their children and sending them to soldiers, using them as traps, forcing the soldiers to choose between death for themselves and their brothers in arms and shooting an innocent child who may or may not have a bomb. He’s heard enough about the old gods and demi gods to understand. Some times in war you have to do horrible terrible things and then live with it afterwards.

                          “I understand. What happened to the two nephilim?”

                          “I left them in the wild. Amazingly they survived and grew and became a problem. I kept my promise though and only offered assistance and guidance to men so they could take them down. Anyway, you have to understand, I couldn’t think of any other way to make what I needed to happen, happen. I took Raphael and his him away and I tortured him mind and body until he broke and became pliant and obedient and I brought him back to Michael. She was so happy to have him back. And he stayed back where he used to be, right by Michael’s side assisting her, following orders, tending and healing the angels injured in rare combat with the Fallen. The Fallen were too good at hiding and running away. I knew it was just a matter of time before Gabrielle would come to me, begging for me to take the mark and relieve her of her pain.

“But that’s not what happened. After a few hundred years her pranks and torments of humanity increased in viciousness. The Nightingale was no longer seen as an annoying pest, but as a terrifying demon. When father had gone down below to run some errands she and all her fallen angels attacked heaven, fighting to get to Raphael. But they didn’t stand a chance. She didn’t stand a chance, not with Michael there. So many angels died. Moist of the fallen, just as many of ours if not more and Gabrielle was bound and captured. We waited our fathers return so he could decide the new punishment of her latest crimes.

                       “It was decided that father would build a cage, and she would be placed inside until she was no longer a threat to heaven or mankind. I couldn’t bear it. It was too cruel. Even as a fledgling she couldn’t stand being confined. Not to the garden, not to heaven, not in a box. You see Raphael, when they were both much younger, grew so tired of her antics and wanted rest, but Michael and I were sparring. Father had just taught Raphael how to build and repair the walls of heaven, which often got damaged back then. And he lost his temper and created a large solid box around her so she couldn’t bother him for a few moments. If you’d heard the pitiful wail she let out and the screams and cries trying to get out, your heart would have broken. When I got to her and broke her out, her wings were broken from smashing them against the walls in an attempt to get out and she was hysterical. It took me so long to comfort her and if Michael hadn’t soundly punished Raphael for it. I don’t know what I would have done to him.

        “I couldn’t bear the thought of her trapped alone for ages upon ages. And I begged and pleaded and argued with my father to the point of screaming at him and calling him a cruel and heartless bastard among other things. He wouldn’t say anything, He just left. Michael was angry, so upset with the loss of our younger siblings, the absence of our father and Gabrielle’s attempt to steal back Raphael. He decided to make an event of it, to make sure that no angel would even think of defying our father’s will ever again. I refused to attend and Michael didn’t make me.

                      “I could let it happen, though. I couldn’t. She’d sacrificed herself for me allowing everything that was to come into being to exist. But Michael would throw her in the cage and automatically it would lock and sink into the earth. I had a idea. If someone else went into the cage first instead of her, it would close and no one could put her inside.

                       “Raphael was going to be there at Michael’s side. So I took him aside and... ‘convinced’ him as as thoroughly and quickly as I could to sacrifice himself to save her. It didn’t take too much ‘persuasion’. He wanted to save her just as much as I did. I just stayed in my room during the entire event, for a sort of plausible deniability about the whole thing, and so I wouldn’t be expected to interfere with Raphael’s self sacrifice.

                        “I knew he could do it. Raphael could go even faster than Gabrielle for a short distance, definitely faster than Michael. Michael would never suspect it of him. So I waited until I could hear the expected commotion and I went out to see none of my Archangel siblings and no cage, only all my remaining little brothers and sisters in an absolute panic.

                        “You see, instead of throwing himself in, he had waited until the last moment where he darted forth, ripped Gabrielle away from our eldest sibling and pushed Michael in instead.” Helel’s voice strains as he says it and he covers his face with his hands. “I never even suspected that he would… that he could do that. He loved Michael, every bit as much as Gabrielle loved me.

                         “All of heaven was in a panic and I… I thought I was going to die, just shatter into a million chords. Nothing felt real, all sound blurred together. I wanted to die, but I couldn’t. I was the only one left. I had to be strong for all my angels. Heaven needed me as much as it always did, more since Michael was gone. And Michael, she needed me, too. So I pulled myself together, calmed the little ones and spent every spare moment I had trying to find a way to open the cage and get Michael out.  I did find a way but my first attempt failed and I couldn’t try again until now and if I fail again, Michael will be trapped in there for another thousand years. All alone. I have to save her. I have to.

                        “But who would ever trust me knowing what I’ve done? Who could ever say yes after seeing what I really am, a broken and empty illusion of greatness who constantly fails at the most important things to come his way. Why couldn’t you have just said yes, had faith in me and just done what I needed you to do without question?

                        “Well, I guess because we’re a matched set.” Mule rubs the angel’s back. “I’m a stubborn brat, you’re a stubborn brat, we’ve both fucked up hurting the people we love. At least you were generally trying to do the right thing. I was just selfish.”

                        “You were just trying to ease your pain. It’s a natural human instinct. So is human experimentation with mind altering substances. It’s just poor luck that you’re in a society that criminalizes that. It’s not a sin… it’s… you’re allowed to do whatever you want to do. That’s what free will is, but there are consequences and they mostly come into play when you cause harm to other people. Doing heroin, not a sin, it may get you jail time but not a sin. Stealing money to but the heroin, that’s a sin. See unadvisable things can lead to other things, worse things. After all, drugs are a gateway to slang.” Helel’s unexpected joke makes Samuel burst out laughing.

                      “I didn’t know you watched Moral Orel.” 

                      “Well, just that episode. It was starting when this one said yes and I was curious. He wanted his last meal to be white castle and Moral Orel marathon. He murdered his parents and set the trailer on fire. It accidentally caught some trees and other trailers, killing an elderly couple as well. He was poor uneducated and proud. He refused to tell anyone that his parents pimped him out to pedophiles since he was 6. He was fourteen but a tall fourteen and got tried as an adult. Aside from the tendency to get in fights with other prisoners who were rumored to have done things to children, he’s actually a pretty good man.”

                      “Oh.” Mule says and just leans back on his hands. Looking up at the sky trying to think. Helel is actually fairly justified in not wanting to share this story. It’s not something you’d expect to hear from St. Lucifer, patron saint of the fallen, the Angel of all angels. “Who else knows about this?”

                       “Aside from Raphael? You. Gabrielle and a few of her angels suspect, including the ones that turned against us when she invaded heaven I believe. But none of them have ever said anything about it so I may be wrong. “ Helel also stares at the sky, not looking at Mule.

                       “Why did he need to be saved if he was such a good man. I know you explained it before but it kind of just seemed like pure manipulation to me.”

                       “It kind of is but not in a bad way. See, there are three reasons why someone would reject heaven and God’s mercy and forgiveness. The first is that they’re angry with him and blame him for everything wrong with their lives up to the moment they die. The second is a refusal to believe He exists at all in any form and rejects heaven as a dying hallucination. The last reason is that they can’t believe that they’d be allowed in and either refuse to accept forgiveness or decide to take the ‘you can’t fire me, I quit’ road, rejecting God before he can reject them. Trevor was one of those.

                      “Sometimes after a lifetime of being told they’re bad and evil or not good enough for God or man, they believe it. But sometimes it can take just one person, the right person to reach out and give them something to hold onto, helping to lift them up as they try to climb out of despair. Sometimes they need to believe they’re earning their forgiveness for them to accept it. Trevor and Mary Beth needed to believe they were making right all their sins, in order to accept forgiveness. For someone who believes in god and angels, being chosen for a heavenly mission, even if it ends in their death, is enough to save them.”

                       “Hmm.” Mule just sits deep in thought. Does he believe him in that? That the angel wasn’t just manipulating people to get what he wanted but actually doing something legitimately good for them?  That everything he’s told Mule is what he believes to be true? Yes. Does he want to help the angel. Yes, he does, but he can’t stop thinking about his mother, his family, everyone he’s hurt.

                       “Can you tell me why you said no?” Helel asks after a while of Mule’s troubled indicision.

                       “Alright. Why I said no.” Mule takes a breath. “First off, I didn’t trust you. You kept trying to mislead and manipulate me and I’m not exactly sure if you ever outright lied to me, but it felt that way. I do understand now, but you could have been hiding anything. Like Bree.”

                        Mule hates to say it but it has to be said. He demanded honesty. It’s just his turn to give it. “But the biggest reason is my mother. I’ve fought with her, rebelled, betrayed, and almost died on her twice. I’ve broken her heart probably more times than I know and I… I have to make up for it.  have to pick myself up and be better and in a way that lets her truly know I’m better. I have to do whatever I need to do to become the son she can be proud of and live up to the love and faith she’s shown me. Even if I can never be as good as Dean, I still have to try. At the very least I have to comply with my parole, you know. Partly for me, too. That last mission I lost everything I was and I filled it with drugs and sex and love, mine and what I thought was hers.”

                         “I’m sorry she hurt you so badly.” Helel rubs Mule’s arm to comfort him. “I wish I could say I was surprised and shocked at what she did to you but I know what she is, what she’s become. I’d like to tell you that this is some final straw, but It’s not. There will never be one. See, I can’t give up on her. Not knowing who she was and what she could be. She’s my baby sister who loved me and trusted me and looked up to me. She still does to some degree. I will never ever stop trying to save her.” Helel confesses and looks over to Mule who reaches over to pat the hand on his arm.

                        “That’s what a big brother should do.” Mule gives him a gentle smile. “So, tell me what do you have to do and why does it have to be now?”

                        “I have to gather the four rings of the four horsemen and take them to the cage where they have to be set in place and then filled with the blood of the vessels, mine and Michael’s. Not all of your blood. About as much as they’d take for a blood donation. Possibly less. Unfortunately I can’t enter until the seal is broken so you’ll be on your own from that point forwards.”

                        “You still haven’t said why it has to be right now.”

                       “If you let me finish talking…” Helel gives him an annoyed look.

                       “Sure but I’ll probably die of old age before then,” Mule manages to keep a straight face as he says this. Helel just gives him a dirty look before continuing.

                       “Every thousand years the horsemen appear. Famine, War, Pestilence. Generally Michael battles War, Raphael battles Pestilence and I take on famine. They haunt the land for a year, waiting for Death to be brought forth as the fourth horseman. If he doesn’t, they vanish for another thousand years. Now Death can only be summoned under certain conditions at a certain time for a very costly price.  If he isn’t it’s a thousand years before you can summon him again. The first way is completely unacceptable, it requires a sacrifice of hundreds of lives. The other is just plain impossible. You’d have to convince Azrael, the angel of death, to summon him forth. That involves speaking to her on the spiritual plain and not only convincing her to bring you, but convincing her to bring you back to your body and not to hell.

                      “This is especially difficult because she and Raphael had a thing back when they were little enough for it to be cute. Michael especially thought it was adorable. But Raphael and I have always hated each other so she hates me. If she knew what I’d done she’d go out of her way to screw with me and anyone close to me. More than she already does. She and Michael didn’t exactly get along either. Azrael is Death’s adjutant and the eldest of the little angels. She’s in charge of all the reapers and soul hounds.”

                      “When does this summoning have to be done?”

                      “In two weeks.”


	18. Dreams of Being an Only Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary gets called in on a hunt  
> Dean is not in the best of moods.  
> Mule meets with Azreal

Much to Sam’s relief, the negotiations for the use of his body go fairly well. Helel, though stubborn, worked with him to figure out a way to let Mule meet the conditions of his parole and help Helel with his mission. Or more accurately break as few parole conditions as they can without being caught.  He has to admit that Helel’s flexible morality makes him like the , angel a little better. He’d expected an archangel to be rigid and inflexible with black and white thinking, stubborn, steadfast, and unwavering. Never even considering deviating from the path of right and wrong. 

He didn’t expect Helel to be such a... person. Relatable, flawed, with failures, greif, regret, love and questions. Sure he’s arrogant and vain with a tendency to be condescending, but still Mule can’t help but like him. What’s more now that he knows the truth, even the most terrible parts of him, Mule finds himself trusting the angel more.

During the day, Mule would have control of his body. At night it would be Helel while Mule rested or participated as he liked. Once they get Death’s ring they can take their time to get the others. At least there wouldn’t be such a pressing deadline. But first they have to summon death. Fortunately an opportunity comes as soon as they finalize the details regarding contacting Azrael and getting her cooperation.

 

“I hate to go,” Mary kisses her son’s cheek, ”But it’s a big one. And they need my help.”

“And your blade?” Mule asks.

“Most likely.” She admits. “You be good, remember to eat, and to call your sponsor if you start having trouble.”

“I will,” He promises. “You take care of yourself.”

“I will.” She reluctantly gets in the impala and drives off to god knows where. She’s turned down every other hunt, but the Fallen are always the exception. Half the time they run like hell the second they figure out she’s either coming or there. Sometimes they fight. It never goes well when they fight. Unfortunately she ends up fairly worse for the wear herself. So does her partner. 

 

It’s actually been fairly easy so far. Thanks to Helel being the viceroy of heaven Mule didn’t have to go anywhere for ingredients to the potion for astral projection. Angels brought them to his room along with instructions. It doesn’t take too long to make it. It’s actually done before the sun goes down.

“Mule sits on his bed and recites the words before taking a drink. Suddenly he watches his body fall back on the bed. The paper falls out of his hands and the glass falls to some pillows on the floor, put there for that purpose. A pale wrinkled man in a suit and long dark trench coat is standing before him.

“Azrael?”

“No.”

“Will you take me to Azrael? I need to speak with her.” Mule asks politely. The reaper raises an eyebrow. “It’s important. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

“Follow me.” The reaper starts to walk away into a shadow. For one moment Mule hesitates, what if he’s not being taken to Azrael. What if he’s being taken to hell? But it has to be done.First Sergeant Winchester has never abandoned a mission.

 

Dean grunts a little as he gets up out of his chair. He knows it going to be a little while before he’s fully recovered, but he didn’t think it would still hurt so much. Of course, what did he expect? He miraculously survived a shotgun blast to the chest. Even if he did get away with his life, there’s no escaping the pain. They did of course offer him prescription pain-killers, but there’s no way he could accept them. The doctor even pointed out that the fact that he was afraid of addiction and didn’t want them meant that he was the least likely kind of person to get addicted. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t and wouldn’t. Not with Sam around. At the very least he can keep temptation away from him. Some of it.

“No, no.”Jo comes over. “Sit down, what do you need? I’ll get it for you.” She puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m just going to check in on Sam.” he gives her a kiss.

“I’ll do it, you should rest.” She kisses him back.

“You should rest. I know you’re tired. I should be pampering you.”he kisses her again. “Waiting on you hand and foot, running in the store in the middle of the night for pickles and ice cream.” He touches his forehead to hers. “I love you so much. You make me so happy.”

“I love you, too, Dean. In fact, I love you more.” She kisses him before he can object then kneels down to show it.

 

“Oh, God, you’re the greatest wife ever.”He sighs as she wipes her mouth and puts his clothing back in order. “Did I tell you I love you?”

“May be later. Now why don’t you let me help you up those stairs and put you to bed and I’ll go check on Sam.” Jo puts an arm around her husbands back.

“Well, as persuasive as you are, and as little as I feel like dealing with that brat right now. I’m getting cabin fever and kind of desperately want to leave the house for a little bit. Even just to walk over to mom’s and back.” He looks at her pleadingly.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, I won’t be that long.” He just kisses her again. “You just keep taking care of Dean Junior in there.” Dean rubs her belly. She’s already starting to show.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“If he’s too much of a jerk you tell me and I’ll go beat him up for you.” Jo mock punches his shoulder.

“Sure, baby, I’ll do that.” Dean grins and grabs his house keys before heading outside. It’s a lovely night out. Half the lights in his mother’s house are on, of course. He knocks but no one answers. He checks the garage and yes, Sam’s motorcycle is still there. And he left the garage door open. So Dean presses the automatic door opener and goes in through the side door. “Sam, you home?” He calls and looks around. Maybe the back porch. Nope, not even an empty root beer bottle.

Maybe he’s upstairs listening to music or something. Dean stands at the bottom of the stairs. Maybe he should just go home. The thought of going up there, trying to help him stay clean, or even just talking to him makes him feel exhausted. What’s the point? Sam won’t listen to him anymore. He’ll just end up hating Dean even more. A smaller part, getting louder by the day is telling him to just give up. Let him go to hell if he wants. Let him go back to jail if he doesn’t care. Just wash your hands of the sullen ungrateful brat.

He’s about to be a father, after all. He should be home with his wife, listening to her stomach. He should be healing, working, living his own fucking life, not checking up on a little brother who does nothing but resent him. He doesn’t need this. He’s the Sheriff, goddamn it and there are a hell of a lot of people in his parrish that are more deserving of his time and attention than Sam. People who are much more fucking appreciative of his efforts. What’s the point anyway? Sam’s going to do what he wants no matter what anyone says or does. He should just wash his hands of the whole damn thing.

But goddamnit, Sam is better than this! He’s a war hero for christ sake. He’s brilliant, he’s brave, he’s his baby brother. At least he was. So Dean’s going to suck it up and make sure he stays clean and out of jail if Dean has to drag him kicking and screaming into the light. It doesn’t matter how cruel or hateful or unappreciative he is. He’s going to get back on the straight and narrow and fucking do something with his life again. And that’s all there is to it.

When he gets to the top of the stairs, he goes to knock on Sam’s door.

“Sam, you in there?” There’s no response. Either he’s asleep or ignoring him. “Don’t forget Jo has an appointment at the obgyn and I can’t drive yet so we can’t take you to your drug test unless you want to be two hours early. But I can get you a cab if you like. If you want to that, though you better make sure you take it when it comes.”There’s no reply again. It doesn’t even sound like anyones in there. But the light is on.

He cracks the door open and sees his brother lying on his bed, facing away from the door. There’s a paper dropped below his hand by the floor. He must have really been tired. It bothers him though and for a moment he’s back in the drug den looking at his prone wraith of a brother, not moving, not breathing, his lips turning blue. It’s nonsense, but he doesn’t really see Sam breathing.

This time he doesn’t run to him. Something tells him there’s no point. There’s an empty glass on the other side of the bed by his other hand. When he puts his head to Sam’s chest, there’s no breath, no heartbeat, nothing. Den just sits heavily on the floor, his back to the bed and stares at the wall .He didn’t want him dead, but at the same time, in the sorrow is a growing sense of freedom. Sam will never relapse now. He’ll never go back to prison. He’ll never hurt them anymore. And he would have repeatedly. That’s always what happens in these cases. He’s seen it over and over again. Always I’m sorry, always the promise not to do it again. Jail, rehab, probation, it didn’t matter. The cycle would always continue until they were either dead or out of their family’s lives forever. But now it’s over.

He never even suspected heroin, much less cocaine. And for such a stupid reason. The little brother he knew had known better. He was stronger than that. Dean just knows that woman was enabling, probably even encouraging him each step of the way. She saved his life only to destroy it, destroy him. It would have been better for him to have died that day, when they said he did. Better for everyone. Dean could have remembered the little brother always asking him to look at this when Mom wasn’t there. Following him around thinking Dean was the greatest thing since sliced bread. He’s have died a marine, a leader, a hero. Not like this, a junkie on probation, committing suicide. They wouldn’t have had all this pain and worry. They wouldn’t have to bury him again.

Dean wants to pick up the paper, see if maybe there’s at least some sort of apology, though it would never be enough. Maybe now they can all just start to forget.

 

“What do you want?” Mule hears someone ask in the middle of the darkness.

“Are… Are you Azrael?” Mule turns around

“And you’re Samuel Winchester.” The woman in jeans and a black leather jacket stands before him, crossing her arms.

“I’ve come to ask you if you could please summon Death for us.”

“No.” Is the annoyed reply.

“Why not?” Mule asks calmly.

“It’s not my job. It’s not my responsibility, and as I told St. Lucifer earlier, I’m not doing his dirty work for him.” She walks forwards. “Look, Winchester, you’re a good man and I know you mean well, but Lucifer is kind of a bastard. So are his sisters honestly. I don’t feel inclined to order my reapers to shirk their duties just so these people can die on a specific date. Our job is hard enough already and none of us have time for this bullshit. So you can tell the morning star that if he wants to summon forth my boss he’ll have to do it himself.”She lightly pokes Sam’s chest. He just tried to think.

“Can you talk to your boss?” Mule asks softly, not betraying any frustration.

“Of course I can.”

“Could you ask him for us to let us borrow his ring?” Mule asks. Azrael’s silent for a moment.

“I could, but he won’t. And frankly he’ll be annoyed that you’re even wasting his time over something as trivial as this.”

“It’s not trivial.”

“To Death, everything is trivial.”

“Could you please ask anyway? We’re trying to save Michael.” Mule explains hoping it appeals to her sisterly feelings. Azrael just gives him a look. “Would Raphael want you to do this?” He asks quietly.

“To help Lucifer? Not in a million years.”

“No, to save Michael. And to save her by asking a question instead of letting his brother kill hundreds just for the chance to do the same thing.” Mule continues. From the stories he’s heard from the hunters and later his mother, Raphael isn’t the evil piece of trash Helel seems to think him to be.

“I’ll ask.” Azrael heaves a frustrated sigh.”But only so I can say I did, not because I think it’ll do any good. Wait here.” She disappears leaving Sam to wait there. He stands there for what feels like hours, but is probably only minutes. He understands how the perception of time can drag and he just thinks about Aaron and his men, and the good times they had together until someone taps his shoulder.

“Yes?” He opens his eyes.

“He said no, he wouldn’t. If you want a favor from him you have to ask him yourself and not interfere with his adjutants work schedule.”

“Thank you for asking.” Mule smiles at her.

“Your very welcome.” She nods, appreciative of his politeness. “You can take him back now, Lucifer.”The angel of death disappears, and a brightness envelops him, taking him back to his body.

“Can I go back in with you?” he senses the question.

“Yes.” And he and the brightness slip back inside his body. It feels… strange. At once like drowning and breathing the clearest crispest air he’s ever known. But also like being caught in a typhoon until he’s pulled into the eye of the storm.

“Hold on.” he hears Helel. “We have a slight problem, let me take care of it first and then we can make things a little more comfortable.”

Loosely through the swirling funnel of water, Mule can see himself tapping someone on the forehead and snapping them away. Was that Dean? Oh fuck. 

“Yes. I put him to bed beside his wife and made him think he was only dreaming about coming over.”Helel’s standing beside him, this time wearing Mule himself as his body only he’s dressed in a white robe with blue trim. “Your brother cares about you, you know. He’s only trying to help you.”

“Well, he should stop. All he does is make me feel worthless.” Mule feels a little weird, talking to himself like this.

“I didn’t say he was good at it.” Helel gives a sigh. “Being a little brother can kind of suck sometimes, I know.” He snaps up a double lounge chair with each side facing the opposite way so they can look at each other while reclining. Mule doesn’t mind sitting down himself.

“I thought you and Michael were close. You know best friends?”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t an overbearing heavy handed know it all asshole sometimes. It also doesn’t mean she didn’t drive me crazy sometimes, either. Anyways, I’m assuming she said no, only politer than she would have said it to me and not immediately after seeing you like she would have to me.”

“She said no. But she did go and ask him if we could borrow his ring. He said no and that we’d have to ask him in person.” Mule confesses.

“I’m kind of impressed you got her to do that much. But it means we have a problem. A huge one.” Helel wipes his eyes with his hands, briefly covering his face with them.

“Yeah, finding out how to not murder a couple hundred people. Are there any other rituals? You know, that you can trust?”

“No. Not that I can do without Michael. It wouldn’t have to be so many either if there weren’t so many humans. Even if there were only a billion we could maybe get away with just a hundred or so.” Helel gives an exasperated sigh. “Of course reducing the population enough to make a smaller tribute would kind of defeat the purpose.” Helel says wryly.

“What if we sacrificed something rare. Like the last of something.” Mule suggests. “The creature’s line would end with them anyways.”

“What? No! I’m not murdering poor innocent animals. I hated when dad asked for that. Besides I’m pretty sure it has to have a soul and I’ve never seen a reaper harvest the soul of a goat if you know what I mean.” Helel leans back and looks up at nothing. “It has to be human lives and human souls. But there’s got to be some way around sacrificing innocent people or living people with time to mend their ways.”

“What happens to the souls when you sacrifice them to Death?”

“I’m not sure, back to the empty? I don’t really know what he does with them.” Helel frown tapping his finger on the shared arm rest.

“Can we ask?”

“Sure once we sacrifice a few hundred people to get him here so we can ask him.” Helel rolls his eyes. “There’s got to be a way around this.”

“Well, you can’t use people about to be executed. The disappearance of several hundred people from death row is something that will be noticed and Mom gets called in on all the big cases, especially ones involving angels. I really don’t want that to happen. “Plus there’s always the chance that they might get a last minute reprieve.”

“Yeah, that’s a little beyond my scope.” Helel reluctantly admits. “Look, resurrections are no big deal. We’re not generally supposed to do it unless dad says so or it’s absolutely vital to all of creation, but in practice it’s fairly easy for us archangels. But that’s if you have the body, the whole body with no missing pieces, especial vital organs. And you have to have the soul. You can resurrect a body without a soul, but then it’s just another animal, really. Besides sacrificing a life without a soul is like buying someone some cupcakes, licking all the frosting off, then giving it to them.”

“I think I did that to my brother once.” Mule grins at the memory. “He beat the crap out of me.”

“Then you can see why that’s a no. What you’re suggesting is doing it with nothing but bones left and in one shot. I’d need a year or two to recover from the strain of pushing that much power through your body, and so would you. Mass resurrections weren’t made to be easy, or all that possible for anyone but Dad with few exceptions. The little angel’s can’t even actually do it on their own, they need a sizeable chunk of heaven’s power passed through them which would burn their vessels up, or to be simply a conduit for Raphael. That little brat is probably the only one who could resurrect half of that amount from bones and be fine. But he is NOT more powerful than me. He was just made so it costs significantly less for him to do that or any sort of healing, really.” Helel gets that hate filled glower that seems to always accompany the mention of his little brother. Mule gets the feeling he’s one of the few people to get to see it, mostly because it’s not the most attractive expression.

“There’s no chance of him helping?” Mule gently suggests, expecting the dark look the angel gives him for even thinking such blasphemy.

“No.” Comes the frigid reply. “One he hates me, two he pushed Michael in and she’s basically been in solitary for two thousand years. How exactly would you feel about the person who pushed you into solitary for that long?”

“I’d probably want to murder them.” Mule confesses. “And not quickly.”

“Exactly, and even if I can convince Michael not to murder Raphael, she’ll probably blame Gabrielle and might forget about the fact that Gabrielle is the lock to the darkness’ cage. Or accidently go overboard and kill her, which is also a possibility in enough distress. Don’t tell anyone but Michael kind of has a power control problem when she’s extremely upset or angry. I know that doesn’t sound like much but it’s kind of like a tendency to piss your pants when you’re scared. Only instead of piss its accidental fiery mass destruction. It’s, you know, kind of embarrassing.”

“I won’t mention it then.” Mule promises, though slightly amused.

“Then there’s also the fact that while Raphael might be willing to risk his own safety to do it, he’d never risk Gabrielle’s.”

“I see.”

“And then there’s a question of how do we get the souls to put in the bodies? Using souls from heaven is absolutely out of the question. If we figure out an acceptable way to do this, I will at the very least get the angry lecture of the century. And that means she might actually yell at me for an entire century if she finds out. Which she will at some point. If I used souls from heaven, I’d be grounded for a thousand years, per soul. And a lot of people will fall and stay fallen if i’m gone for five hundred thousand years.”

“Wait, grounded?” Mule asks, pretty sure it’s not just Helel being told to go to his room.

“Magically confined to the garden and unable to leave until an older sibling releases you. And since my only older sibling is Michael…”

“She kind of sounds alot like Dean.” Mule comments apologetically.

“Yes, she is very much like your brother in some ways.”

“We probably can’t use heaven bound souls either.” Mule assumes.

“Right. Unfortunately Hell’s off limits. I can’t get in there and I absolutely do not want either of those two to know what I’m trying to do any sooner than neccessary.” Helel brushes his hair back and tries to think. Five hundred souls that wouldn’t be missed, wouldn’t be denied their eternal reward and would be okay to kill. Pagans? Cult leaders? Fake Prophets. Monsters?  No they would be too hard to handle and definitely harder to control their thoughts and actions. Most of those would be missed and some of them might actually be righteous but confused men. All of them would bring hunters down on them and that would probably mean Mary Winchester, too. Which they want to avoid at all costs for many reasons.

“Helel?” Mule grabs his lower arm. “Where do ghosts go when their bodies are salted and burned?”

“The empty or hell. It depends how violent their spirits were before and after life. One who chooses to pass on before they hurtl people has a chance to go to heaven depending on what kind of person they were in life.” Helel replies, then looks at Mule and smiles. “You brilliant man.”

“And maybe we could steal perfectly whole pre autopsy bodies from the morgues in a hundred different cities. If it was from cities across the world, five missing bodies won’t cause enough of a stir to show a pattern and attract hunters. How badly would that weaken you?

“Not too much. We’ll have to find an abandoned spot where I can store the bodies and the souls that’s also big enough to do the ritual. It’ll have to be a place where a massacre took place.” Helel smiles slapping the armrest.

“I’ll start researching the most haunted spots in the world. Hunters will notice those being ghost free but assume another hunter did it somehow.”

“I’ll have my librarian send down some resources. As we agreed, you do your thing during the day. I’ll take over at night.” Helel gets up. “You’ll need to rest. Anything in particular you’d like to dream about?”

“No, thank you.” Mule shakes his head. He’s honestly a little tired of dreaming.

“I’ll get you up in the morning,” Helel promises and everything disappears.


	19. We need to talk about Sam.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary feels old and battles war  
> The nightingale reveals herself.

“Mom, you need to come home. It’s Sam,” Is of course the first thing Dean says when Mary picks up the phone.

“What’s wrong? Is he skipping meeting? Work? Did he fail a blood tests? Miss a meeting with his parole officer? Did you find drug and drug paraphanalia? Is he hurt?”

“Um, no. Things are starting get very strange though. Something is going on. For one he’s been singing in the evenings and he’s fantastic.”

“Dean…”

“No, mom, Sam cannot sing. He is completely tone deaf and always has been.” Dean continues. “And he’s been talking to himself, not like regular person talking to himself, like crazy person talking to an invisible person only they can see and hear. I had this dream that, Sam was Dead, poisoned himself or something with a suicide note in his hand. But it freaked me out so I went back to check on him the next morning. He wasn’t there, but there was a paper on his desk just like the suicide note. Only it wasn’t a suicide note, it had weird symbols and wasn’t even in english.”

“Dean, I swear to god…”

“Not only that, but he’s started dropping by the office first thing in the morning, leaving Boxes of Joe and Donuts for everyone at the station. Yesterday he washed and changed the oil and stuff for my damn car.”

“DEAN!” Mary shouts. “First off, singing can be learned. Secondly, earbuds, Dean, earbuds. A nightmare is a nightmare. The paper was probably latin and he’s been adding useful spells to his hunter’s RPG wiki thing lately. Last of all, maybe, just maybe he’s trying to improve his relationship with you. Maybe he’s trying to make things right between you. Now I know you love your brother and you’re worried and trying to help him, but you need to back the fuck off. He is doing everything he can and everything that is required of him to turn his life around. He doesn’t need you treating him like a criminal when he’s doing something nice for you.”

“No, mom…”

“No. Just no, Dean. I am hunting something huge and I cannot have you freaking out like the first time I left you two home alone. On your insistence, by the way. Do you remember that Dean?”

“Something’s not right, Mom. Really not right. Like maybe Sam is possessed not right.”

“Well, you know what to do about that, Dean. Salt, holy water, crucifix, rosaries, exorcisms, holy fire circle.” Mary snaps. “Now unless someone is dead or dying, I don’t want another phone call! In fact just text me and if I’m not in the middle of another gang war, I’ll probably respond. So, goodbye, Dean.” She hangs up and throttles her phone. Terry just laughs. “I’ve told them over and over since they were children, do not call mommy when she’s hunting unless there’s an emergency involving the hospital, death or dying.”

“You kind of went a little hard on him, there. I’ve never heard you snap at your children, well, at Dean like that before. You’re so stressed, and this last stop ended up not only well, but kind of funny, too.” Terry tugs the waist of her pants to get her back to the bed.

“That’s why I’m stressed. The nightingale was there and we missed her. I want to 

Scream!” Mary clenches her fists and tosses her phone on the other bed.

“I can help you with that.” he grins.

“You’re right. I need to calm down.” Mary takes her shirt off, leaving the sheath 

and blade in place on her back.

“Still not taking that off?” Terry raises an eyebrow.

“This does not leave my body.” She shoves her pants down, stepping out of 

them. “Now are we going to do this, or are you going to keep asking stupid questions.”

 

Mary looks in the mirror. When did her face start to get so wrinkled, around her

eyes, her lips, her brow? And her hair’s more white than blonde. Sometimes she feels so old. She can’t believe she’s going to be a grandmother, except when she looks in the mirror. She’s fifty nine. Fifty nine! How many hunters live to be fifty nine? Should she even still be a hunter at fifty nine? When will she become a liability on hunts? Will she be able to tell before she gets someone killed, or dies on one? And she’s still chasing the nightingale. Is she insane? She’s fifty nine. And not only that but she’s chasing the nightingale and whatever destructive force the nightingale is chasing.

“The thought occurs to her that all of this could be her doing. But there’s a trail of massive violence coming up from South America that aren’t her style at all. Massive Cartel wars between allies or clans and factions that just had made an agreement. Gang wars, riots and only the last two had any of the humorous or ironic absurdity that the nightingale always indulges in. In the riot, the police shields became gummy shields. Bullets turned into bubbles, rocks became donuts mid air. They were all things that interfered with the violence and confused or amused the participants out of their mindless rage.

You wouldn’t think that was her style either, but she’s known to do things that are accidently helpful just for the sake of her own amusement. Like that serial killer who targeted children. He was one of the few people Mary would have actually wished on him what the nightingale did to him. In this last one the survivalist compound was in a sudden confrontation with the police and military that would have been worse than WACO if not for the massive wall of cartoon sunflowers and little elves floating around all joining hands, singing ‘it’s a small world’ anyone who touched them or fired at it started joining hands with the other and started singing it as well until the only ones left had retreated or joined in. Apparently the survivalist’s weapons catches turned into toys as well and the children got giant animate stuffed doggies to play with and protect them. She’s fairly sure the nightingale’s spouse had some influence there.

Something violent will happen soon according to the pattern and the next stop  seems to be in a small town named Park Wind. She’d have overlooked it entirely if it didn’t have a large marine base and a large army base flanking the town. There had been a violent confrontation between a coast guard and navy ship a week ago that was blamed on bad weather and poor communication where there was no bad weather and the communication equipment was fine. So an army/marine confrontation would be par for the course.

The best place to start for signs of impending trouble is at the local bar in the town. It’s probably where the service men would interact. If something was starting these little wars, it would probably start someplace with liquor and friendly rivalry. Terry just decides to follow her lead, which is nice. Having it be because she is a ‘living legend’ is not so flattering. Neither is being told she has an incredible body for someone her age. Though he kind of has such a crush on her that it was obviously meant to be flattering. Men are stupid in their twenties.

“Just look for anything suspicious.” Mary sits down and orders some whiskey. Everything looks normal. At least, it is as far as she can tell from the mirrors over the bar.  Terry goes to get a seat in the back for a different vantage point.

“Don’t sit there unless you can play.” She hears the bartender call to the very back. “This is a tough crowd.” Mary looks back to see if Terry actually decided to sit at the piano. But there’s a short blonde woman with curly hair starting to play a standard introduction. There’s something about that woman that bothers her.

“There was an old farmer who lived on a rock.” She starts to sing. “He sat in the meadow just shaking his Fists at some boys who were down by the crick their feet in the water their hands on there..” Mary grabs her shoulder and pulls her back to see a familiar face. “Mary!” Bree smiles. “I’m so glad to see you!” Mary punches her in the face without hesitation.

“You heartless worthless whore!” Mary gets in a few more punches before a few soldiers come to Bree’s rescue. 

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t call the police.” Bree stands up. 

“Are you sure, miss?” The soldiers asks.

“She’s my mother in law. Well, almost was.” Bree gives a sheepish smile. “There’s been a misunderstanding, Mary.  Why don’t we go somewhere more private and just talk this over. I think I’m here for the same reason you are.”

“You abandoned him!” Mary accuses her hotly. “He loved you and when he

needed you the most you just disappeared. You broke his heart and if you had anything to do with the drugs I’ll break your fucking neck!”

“No, of course not! Please just let me explain. Please, Mary.” Bree begs.

“Alright. But this better be good.”

“Are you sure about this ma’am?” The soldier asks again, eyeing Mary warily. For 

an old woman she sure seems to have a hell of a right hook. 

“Yes, this is just... complicated. It should be alright now that she’s let off some

steam, right Mary?”

“Yes.” Mary says through clenched teeth.

“I assume you have your car?” Bree motions  Mary to follow as she heads out the

Door.

“Of course.”

“What the Hell, Mary!” Terry exclaims as he meets them outside.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Mary takes out her keys and gets into the driver’s 

seat. “You. Sit.” She points to Bree then the passenger’s seat.

“Alright.” Bree climbs in and goes to turn on the radio.

“Don’t even think about it. Just talk.”

“Alright, so have you heard of the four horsemen?” Bree starts, though not with the subject Mary wants her to discuss the most.

“From that movie with the hulk?” Mary asks.

“Now You See Me.” Terry remind her of the name. “We just watched that.” 

“Right, but no. The four horsemen of the apocalypse. War, Famine, Pestilence and Death. Every thousand years three of them appear and wait for someone to summon death so they can usher in the end times. If someone doesn’t they just hang around causing havoc for a year or two. When all four of them are out at the same time, they become insanely powerful. No one’s summoned Death yet, but we still need to stop the other three. I’ve been trying to track them, but war seems to be the one to show up on our radar first.”

“How do we kill it?” Terry asks.

“Ha, we don’t. We just banish it from this plain of existence for a thousand years. And to do that, we need to cut off the finger with his ring, take that ring and bury it somewhere desolate and void of human life so no one accidentally finds it.  I have friends who can help bury it., but getting the ring from him will be a problem. I was getting desperate. I was almost thinking of actually calling you myself, but here you are!” Bree give Mary a hug, resting her head on her shoulder.

“Every part of your body you wish to keep, you will remove from my person.” Mary says cooly.  Bree quickly sits upright and leans against the window instead.

“We were planning on staking out the bar..” Terry awkwardly refocuses the conversation. “Looking for anything suspicious.”

“That’s a good idea, but the place he’ll be is the football game tomorrow.” Bree looks back at him. 

“The football game?”

“Yep, every year they have an unofficial football game. Army vs. Marines at the college football field. Everyone shows up, the bases are down to bare minimums, the town crowds in too. That’s the best place to cause an outright melee of epic proportions.  Besides the olympics I mean.”

“You think he’s head up towards toronto?” Mary pulls into the inn.

“It’s what I would do if I wanted to start another world war.” Bree shrugs

“I didn’t know you were a hunter.” Mary’s voice is still frosty.

“There are alot of things you don’t know about me, Mary.” Comes the chipper reply.

“Unfortunately the game is tomorrow afternoon. So there’s not much time to 

prepare.” Bree continues when Terry gets back from paying for the room and leads them up to one close to them.  “Fortunately I’ve been preparing for weeks on a spell to summon and bind him to a specific area for a certain period of time.”

“Oh? And when he’s confined, then what? We wrestle him down and take the ring?” Terry asks, sitting on the chair by the window. Mary just stands, leaning against the doorway, glaring at Bree.

“No, ‘we’ do nothing. His best weapon is getting people to fight against each other. There can be only one person there. They have to be a damn good warrior too, because War will not go down without a fight. Here.” She pulls a blueprint from her inner jacket pocket and spreads it out on the bed.

“Now this is a map of the basement under the football field. There’s an empty storage locker here.” She points to a large room at the end of a long hallway. “We can sneak in during the game. Terry and I will get seats and wait for the chaos to start, then once it does we’ll call Mary and she can perform the spell and defeat War. After that I’ll take the ring and get it to safety.” Bree looks at them. “Any questions?”

“No,” Terry shakes his head, then looks to Mary.

“Why the hell should I trust you?” Mary looks cooly at the woman, who was almost her daughter in law. “You faithless, heartless, cowardly little bitch.” Bree just looks down at her hands, her face full of shame.

“I know I’ve made some mistakes. I was a coward and I know I hurt your son a great deal. You have every reason to hate me for what I did. I couldn’t help him and I couldn’t bear the guilt, I couldn’t bear to see him like that and I knew you and Dean would blame me. And maybe you’d be right. I tried to get him to stop, but I just kept protecting him. I should have come forwards at least to you, but I couldn’t and when everything went so badly I just fled. It’s no excuse, but aside from all that. I did save him, risked my life to take care of him and nurse him back to health for two years just so I could bring him back to you. I know you can never forgive me for leaving him, but doesn’t that count for something?” Bree looks up with a pitiful look, as if she’s a harsh word away from bursting into tears. As much as Mary’s loathe to admit it, it does.

Mary waits in the storage room, the circle and ingredients prepared for the summoning. Four weapons of war, a sword, a newspaper, a draft notice, and a ballot. North, south, east, and west. All it needs is the blood of a warrior added to the bowl of ingredients as she recites the spell to complete it. It was suspiciously easy getting down here, locking and barricading the door behind her so no guards can get in and interrupt the fight. 

It feels like an eternity waiting for the call, but it finally comes. She cuts her hand with her blade, and lets the blood drip into the bowl as she recites the incantation.

“You’re not an archangel.” Is the first thing the ordinary, unimpressive looking man before her says as he looks at her blade. “How did you get that?”

“I took it.” She replies, and lunges toward his hand, attempting to cut off the finger in the first blow. He’s too quick and moves out of the way, grabbing the sword on the ground. He goes to strike but she blocks him.

“A true warrior I see.” He smiles kicking her back. She doesn’t lose her balance, though he cuts her arm as she works to maintain it. “I could use good warriors. People who love to fight, live to fight.” She dodges his next attack, getting him across the ribs just before he manages to slice her side. “I could give your life such meaning and glory. You’ll die like the sun in an explosion of fire and destruction.” Tired of his words, Mary just attacks again and again without pause, trading a hip for a shoulder, an arm for a leg. She counters he counters, she hits, he hits. Her vision starts to blur and she loses track of things for a moment when he strikes a fatal blow, one she knows she’s never coming back from. She won’t let herself stop. She has to do this, she has to keep her babies safe, keep the world safe and alive for them.

Finally his sword slices through her ribs and she sees her chance. She thrusts up her blade and as it collides with the handle of his sword, several fingers fall off and he disappears from view. She falls to her knees, tumbling for it and somehow manages to take the ring off. An impulse runs through her, not to trust Bree, not to let her have the ring. So she swallows it, before falling back onto the ground.

War’s sword is still inside her, but she doesn’t have the strength to pull it out. She can’t even keep a grip on her own much less put it back in her sheath. It rolls out of her hand with a clink on the concrete. Fifty nine isn’t so bad. Maybe she didn’t get to see her grand children being born but she saw the ultra sound. And Sam, he’s pulling his life together. He’s doing so well she has faith that he’ll be alright. That he’ll stay clean, get closer to his brother. Maybe her death will help make that happen. Maybe he’ll be able to end up with a wife and child of his own. She’s left him the house and her share of the garage so he’ll be okay. Sweet music starts to fill her ears.

“Sing sweet nightingale, sing sweet nightingale hi-i-igh above me. Oh si-ing sweet.” The song is both at once peaceful and alluring and infuriating as it draws closer to her. Bree lies down on the floor facing Mary’s dying body, resting her head on her hands. “Hi.”She smiles contentedly, and reaches over to pick up the blade from the floor before resuming her stance. “I am so happy, you don’t even know.” She sighs. “War is gone, you’ll be gone. Not right away, of course. I’m going to let you suffer a little bit. Maybe I should leave you alive but cripple you like I did your son. I could make you a quadraplegic. I’d have to take your voice too. Make sure you’re in constant pain. I’d probably have to remove your eyelids so you can’t blink out any messages. Eh, fuck it, that sounds like too much work. No, I’ll just let you die, knowing how badly you failed to keep your baby safe from me.

“You know, I liked that damn vessel. The one you fucking destroyed,” Bree takes her sword and cuts a line down the side of Mary’s face. “I was laid up for years! I barely found this one, but she was way too frickin young so I had to have Raphi age her. Though two years in that damn cave with Sam, drugging him constantly cutting into his flesh, Ah, it got so boring!” Bree rolls over onto her back. “Even the fucking get’s dull. It’s almost like, if it’s not Raph, what’s the point? But that son of yours is dedicated to pleasing his woman I’ll give him that much.. I might even take him to bed again when I get bored. He has potential. I mean, he’s fairly vanilla right now, but soon enough I’ll make him my absolute slave again, make him feel ecstacy from the most absurd and destructive things. It’ll be hilarious.

“And I just… I really want you to know just how badly I fucked you over and how screwed your baby boy is and will be. See, I got him addicted to painkillers before he even left the cave. And he didn’t even know it. It was almost too easy to talk him into switching to heroin once I convinced the doctor he didn’t need the pills anymore. The cocaine, though, that was his idea so he wouldn’t neglect me physically. Such a thoughtful boy.

“And all this time, there I was, living with you, making friends with you, getting your love and gratitude as I slowly destroyed him.” She starts to laugh. “I even fucked the shit out of him in your home, while you were there, knowing you could hear me as I narrated the whole thing. All the while you never knew it was me.” She laughs so hard that she has to hold her stomach. When she finally stops laughing. She gives a sigh and rolls back to lie on her stomach again. “You don’t even know the worst part of all. You see, your darling, precious little Sam-a-lam belongs to me-e.” She sings. “He sold his immortal soul for heroin. That he paid for. The very dose that almost killed him. That should have killed him honestly and sent him straight to hell. “That was just bad luck, I mean, I didn’t expect them to find him so quickly and I certainly didn’t expect your other son to carry naloxone on him. I could have taken him in the hospital easily enough, but I thought that having him arrested by his brother and sent to prison in complete and utter disgrace was good enough.

“And then I could wait for you to die first. Because I know you, Mary, you mama bear.” She pinches her injured cheek, then absent mindedly starts to peel off the skin from Mary’s face. “You would just walk right in through the gates of hell, slaughtering any and every one in your way, just to save little Sammy and drag his soul up to heaven where it belongs. But nope, now you get to go to heaven with all those happy memories and happy feelings and happy people and all the while, knowing baby Sam is with me for all eternity, my slave, my project, my punching bag. Oh the torments and ecstacy he’ll be submitted to. Maybe I can even make him my faithful lieutenant. I dunno. But he’s not going to like most of it. And all this is going to happen to him, because you,” She bops Mary’s nose with her bloody finger. “pissed me the fuck off.

“I will do something nice for you, though, on account of almost being in laws. You

know, before I finish peeling your face off at least enough to gruesomely disfigure you. No open casket funeral for you.” She sits up on her knees and takes Mary’s phone from her pocket, pressing the number. “Here you are.”Bree holds it up to Mary’s ear.

“Hello? Mom?” Mule answers the phone.

“Tell him goodbye, Mary.”

“Good bye, Sam.” Mary croaks unable to say anything else.

“Tell him your sorry you’re such a shitty mother.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a shitty mother.”

“What? No, you’re not a.. Mom, are you okay? Where are you? Are you hurt? Is

someone there with you?”

“I love you, Sam. I believe in you...” Mary gains control of her voice. “Go to Ellen,

right now. I don’t care about parole they....”

“Tell him it’s time for you to go, Mary.”

“It’s time for me to go.”

“MOM!”

“I’ll see you soon, Samuel.” Bree sings into the phone and hangs up. “Should we call Dean now? Nah, I think he’ll suffer more if you don’t.” She taps the phone against her chin before tossing it into thin air. She takes the blade in her right hand and cuts off the loose skin on Mary’s face before bending over and kissing Mary gently on the forehead. “I hate you.” She gives an enamored sigh, and lifts up her blade to bury it in Mary’s heart. It is more fun if she gives the killing blow herself. A hand grabs her wrist and a startled Bree looks up. Her brother squeezes it until she drops the blade then strikes her chest, banishing her to the ends of the earth.

Mary’s vision is starting to go completely. It almost looks as if her little Sam-a-lam is kneeling down before her.

“It’s alright, Mary.” He says in the softest gentlest voice, one she hasn’t heard in a long time. “Everything will be alright.” He caresses her face and the pain disappears into a soothing darkness.

 

“Mary… Mary!” Terry’s cries wake her. She opens her eyes just as he grabs her shoulders. She feels fine. Wonderful even. Not even the little sore aching back and muscles that she’s so used to waking to are there.

“I’m okay… I think…”she slowly sits up. Her clothing is torn and soaked with blood, her own, she knows, but there are no cuts, no scars, her face is not only in one piece but smoother than she’s felt it in a while. Even the old appendix scar is gone.

“What happened?” Terry asks, bewildered and concerned. “Where’s Bree.”

“War is dead or banished. I have the ring and Bree… is the nightingale. I’m not exactly sure why I’m alive right now.” She picks up her blade and puts it back in her sheath. “I… I need to go home. I need to go right now. Are you okay? Can you get yourself out of here alright?”

“I’m alright. I’ll just steal a car as they figure out how to get everyone out of the ball pit that is the football stadium.” Terry nods and helps her up.

“Thank you.” Mary takes off running back to the parking lot. 

People are screaming with a few small thin plastic balls spilling out of the

stadium. A few claustrophobic people must be in the stands. Suddenly she hears popping sounds as the balls she can see turn into bubbles. With no time to lose, she gets in the car and hightails it out of there. When she calls Sam on one of her extra phones, he doesn’t pick up. Not on the cell, not the house phone. He’s not at work. He’s not at the VFW. Definitely not at Dean’s, though her eldest does pick up.

“ Dean, I need you to find your brother and put him into the safe room in the basement. I’m coming home as fast as I can. But Sam’s in trouble, big trouble.”

“Yes, mom.” Dean answers and hands up. She already feels a little better. No matter what, she can always count on Dean.


	20. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helel has a slip of the tongue  
> Dean shares with his brother  
> Helel convinces Mule to tell him.

Mule feels sick. His mother’s torn and mutilated body just stays in his mind and Bree about to give the finishing blow. Helel is trying to comfort him but everything is spinning and  swirling inside his head and out. It’s too much to take in. Helel had told him who she was, but part of him just couldn’t believe it, not completely. His heart still reached out for her when Helel spoke of her, of what she’s been through and is still going through. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her he still loved her and try to ease her pain just like Helel did. He wanted to help his angel bring back the little sister she once was. He still couldn’t understand what she really was. He just willfully forgot the stories he’s been told and the legends and books describing the nightingale’s boundless sadism, her heartless cruelty, her sociopathic sense of humor, all the pain and torment inflicted for shits and giggles. What she did to his mother… it brought it home in a way he nothing else ever could.

“I’ve lost her.” Helel gives a sigh and lights down on a mountain top. “Of course the truth is, I’d have no chance of catching her, much less finding unless she wanted me, too. She’s faster than any of us. I’m taking you home, and help you calm down.” Helel says gently, though he covers his face with his hands, taking a shaky breath before taking them back to the basement. “Everything’s alright, Mule. I won’t let anything happen to her, Samuel. I promise.” He sits down and retreats inside his vessel to find Mule curled in a ball. Mule’s very being filled with pain, anger, guilt and sorrow. He’s utterly heartbroken and feeling so guilty. But most of all he’s wrapped in the fierce desire for relief, for the sweet bliss that puts everything out of his mind so he can escape the pain. “It’s alright, Samuel. I’m here. I won’t leave you alone. I promise.”

He’s not exactly sure what to do, so he just manifests his wings in their shared space and just protectively wraps them around the both of them as he sings Mule songs of forgiveness and mercy, finally going to some songs he hears from siblings back from missions on earth. Straight into the Fire, The rose, and finally True Colors. Those seem to comfort Mule the most.

Helel can hear Dean in the house calling for Sam, though he can only guess where the man is. Unfortunately Mule’s not even close to ready to deal with his brother yet, so Helel just ignores the man as long as he can. When Dean’s at the basement door, Helel snaps about half the basement clean and organized before opening a box. He takes out an old album, flipping slowly through it.

They’re pictures of John. A clipped out yearbook picture. He looks kind of like Sam in it. Some photo booth pictures of him and Mary. Movie tickets, restaurant menus, a picture of him at the roller rink, holding onto the bars at the side, making that annoyed/ embarrassed half smile  that Sam does, sometimes. He’s clearly not doing great on the roller skates.

There’s one of him and Ralph standing proudly underneath the Grand Reopening sign at the garage they bought together. In a tiny apartment, showing off their wedding rings. Wedding pictures. Standing in front of their house, Mary holding little Dean’s hand while she and John place one on her showing tummy. It’s easy to pretend not to hear Dean coming down the stairs.

“Sam!” He calls angrily when he finally sees his brother. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?”

“Yes.” Because Mule would probably just give an answer like that. Possibly with a smart ass comment. But Helel is trying to calm things down, not stir them up. “I was distracted.” he looks back down at the album. “ Is everything alright?”

“No, everything’s not alright. Mom just called. She said you were in trouble and to have you stay in the safe room until she gets home.”

“Did she say why?”

“No, but Mom doesn’t say things like that without a good reason.” Dean reminds him, sitting on the basement steps. Helel wants to just agree and go in until Dean leaves then go back to taking care of Mule, but that would be beyond the limits of credibility.

“Give me your phone.”: He holds out his hand. “C’mon I misplaced mine.” Dean tosses it over so he can call his mother.

“Dean, did you find your brother?”

“Mom, it’s me. Dean said you want me in the safe room?”

“Yes. Right now. The nightingale is after you. I want you to stay there until I get home.”

“Mom, I have an AA meeting tonight and a drug test in the morning. I’m seeing my parole officer tomorrow. I’m on probation, remember? Now I know you want me safe, but exactly how safe will I be if I’m sent back to prison for violating my parole?” Helel says calmly, reasonably. “I found some sigils that are designed to keep evil out of the house, and maybe from finding me, too. I promise I’ll be careful. Besides my meetings are in a church.”

“Give me to your brother.” Mary demands so Helel hands the phone to Dean.

“Mmhm.. Yeah it’d be easier to trank him and handcuff him in the safe room.” Dean replies. “Alright. I can do that. Love you, too, mom.”He hands Helel back the phone.

“Hon, you can try your sigils, but you are taking Dean with you absolutely everywhere. Understood?”

“Fine.” Helel tries to be curt enough not to raise too much suspicion. “I’ll get some permanent markers and take care of the house. Why don’t you just go upstairs and relax on the recliner for a bit. You should still be resting.”

“I know that, but someone wouldn’t sit in the damn safe room for a day and a half.” Dean gets up and heads up the stairs. Helel feels slightly annoyed.

“After hounding M..me about every single rule, appointment, test and meeting you’re complaining because I’m insisting on continuing to do so?”Helel snaps at him.

“We’re talking about your life, Sam.”

“So am I! There are worse things than Death, Dean. And being thrown back into a place where he has to fight just to keep from being killed, where he’s tossed into solitary, which is considered absolutely inhumane torture by the way, and having to endure being beaten and raped by the damn guards so as not to extend your time there is definitely one of them!” Helel explodes. This snaps Mule to attention immediately and he almost violently shoves Helel into the back, taking full control of his body, in horror of what the angel just revealed.

“What did you say?” Dean just looks at him in shock.

“Nothing. Forget it.” Mule says quickly.

“You were raped by the guards?”

“I said forget it, Dean!”

“You never told me you were…”

“It was prison, Dean, it was bound to happen eventually.”

“Didn’t you fight back?”

“And what? Get put back in solitary? Be charged with assault? Get my time extended? I didn’t agree and I didn’t submit, and I didn’t lay a single hand on him, and that’s probably the only reason it was believed and they were gotten rid of.”

“That’s not fucking good enough. The belong in prison. Who.. look, we are going to go down to the sta..”

“NO!” Mule grabs his brother by the shirt. “We are doing nothing. We are saying nothing and we are moving on with our fucking lives! Do you understand me?” The raw angry look in Mule’s eyes make Dean back off, and he just nod his head.

“Yeah, Sam. I understand.” Dean says gently, as soon as Mule let’s go he heads up the rest of the way and goes to the fridge. Mule hands the reigns back over to Helel and just stays silently in the background as the angel takes the desk drawer in the hallway and brings out a chair to stand on. A sigil is places over every doorway and window on each floor of the house, including the attic and basement.

He puts a similar sigil on Mule’s chest and goes to offer it to Dean as well. His goes on his arm. He’s already protected from her view, but Mule wouldn’t know that, if Dean does. When he’s done, Helel sits down on the couch and just concentrates on trying to get Mule to talk to him. But he won’t. Helel looks at his hands. They’re all dirty from the basement, his face is a little greasy as well. His clothes are dusty, too. He could just snap himself to rights, but Dean is here.

“I’m going to take a shower.” Helel gets up and heads upstairs.

“Alright. Just remember, your meeting is in two hours. And it’s a half hour drive.”

“I will, thank you.” Helel heads up the stairs. To tell the truth he’s actually fairly curious about showers. The last time he was actually down here in the flesh, they didn’t have showers. They didn’t have toilets either. Or sinks. Or most electronics. The little he knows about it all was from people’s dreams and they never know that much about the details, either. He knows they’re doing it, but not what exactly their extracting it from. He doesn’t even know how far they’ve gotten in what they call physics. There’s just always so much to do up in heaven. So many things to oversee. So many people to try and help. He never just gets the time to learn as much about humanity as he wants to. Much less experience them. 

When he turns on the light in the bathroom, he listens and feels the giant rube goldberg device they created for transferring energy all the way from the energy creation to it’s use. It’s outright adorable. He almost laughs, but it’s kind of brilliant, too. Like making a working suit of armor out of nothing but duct tape and tin foil. Well, learning is a process, and they have such limited time and resources. To jury rig something with what they have grown to understand over generations is phenomenal. The same with the plumbing and sewer systems. Though really they should be so much farther along than that after the progress they made in Rome over two thousand years ago, but two steps forward and one step back seems to be the case when the knowledge is kept as a securely guarded secret.

The shower is kind of a disappointment. The feel of water running over his skin is wonderful, but he can only feel it from the chest down. He wanted to know what it felt like to tilt his head back under the water, and feel it flow in his hair and over his face without having to hunch down awkwardly to do it. But much like Helel, Mule is tall, and most things are built for the average sized person. It’ll still give him more room in Mule’s body than his tallness does in making his way through certain areas of heaven that Raphael made. All his brother had to say about that was ‘you can fit’ when Helel complained it didn’t give him any room to adjust his wings. Raphael just asked why he’s need to adjust his wings in the middle of a hallway. He had two inches between him and the ceiling. Two. He knows Raphael made it that way on purpose. It’s not as if Heaven has a limited amount of space that he has to conserve it like that. That useless little brat.

Washing is interesting. The scents the soap bubbles, liquid or solid. The foam and what looks like a giant bubble net you rub all over your body. Vessels never stop seeming strange even when you stop to think about them. Not that he really had the chance to before. The destruction of the lesser vessels began almost immediately so he never really got the chance to feel and use them properly. The difference is really amazing. And all because of his arrangement with Mule. Though they both only loosely stick to their assigned hours, it’s usually at the other’s request.

What was his father thinking when he made feet. Sure the soles, when clean and scrubbed, aren’t too hard to look at, but the tops of them with the veins and sunken spaces and angles. Helel understands how they work, but couldn’t his father have managed to make them even a little more attractive. Baby feet are adorable, though. When do human feet stop being adorable and turn into the hideous monstrosities they are? And why is there still so much hair? Everywhere. Maybe he can talk Mule into letting him get rid of most of it. It’s not like men actually need hairy legs, chests or butts. It’s like mankind is stuck in the semi awkward teenage phase of evolution. And some of them are so proud of being hairy, too. It’s strange.

It half reminds him of those four faced seraphs that are so proud of their appearance. They think they’re a sort of ultra seraph, which they almost are, but really they’re just three angles who failed to individuate from each other when their batch was first made. The first one kind of set the standard for the others. Though nobody’s sure where the fourth face comes from why so many of them were animal faces, why they don’t even use their second set of wings and where the hell all those eyes came from. Well, he has his suspicions about a helpful little sister  making suggestions as they were forming. But when their father chose them to be some of his messengers to humanity…. Helel hates to say it but his father’s sense of humor is far too like Gabrielle’s for his comfort sometimes.

Why are ears so hard to clean? And do they really need this much hair in their armpits? Really? Shouldn’t there be some way to make belly buttons just a little tidier? Millions of years and they still just cut and tie. And then there’s these things that seem to have shrunk. Maybe the water’s too cold. And he’s not circumcised so what..

“I’ll take things from here.” Mule shoves his way in front again. Granted Helel’s not resisting but his vessel doesn’t have to be so rude about it. “Shit this is cold.” he turns the knob the other way.

“You know you don’t have to shove me all over the place. There is a polite way to change positions. Is this how you treat a guest?” Helel scolds him.

“You’re more like a roommate, so yes. Why are we taking a shower?”

“Because we’re dirty?”

“Let me rephrase that. Why did you decide to take off my clothes, put me in the shower, and start rubbing my naked body with soap?”

“Because we were dirty. And Dean was down stairs so I couldn’t just snap myself clean. Besides I was curious. I’d never taken a shower before.” Helel shrugs.

“Yes, well, that’s all fine, but some things are off limits. Just.. stay away from my naughty parts.”Mule can’t help but feel a little put out as the angel laughs at him. “Oh, shut up.” He leans forward, resting his forehead against the shower wall.

“I’ve never understand why genitals were made the way they were.”

“We are not discussing this.”

“I’m not talking about sexually. I’m talking about aesthetically. The human body is mostly made of soft pleasing curves and lines and then for some reason he decided to disrupt that beauty with feet and genitals.”

“I suppose yours are much more aesthetically pleasing?” Mule rolls his eyes. 

“I am an angel , Mule. We don’t have bodies like this.”

“What about the bright one you first showed me?”

“That… that’s how we appear when reduced to a visual you can tolerate and process.  It’s a stick figure of an angel, drawn in light gray. Our true forms are more massive and brighter and expressive in ways you can’t even begin to understand. We’re basically multidimensional wavelengths of celestial intent though that description itself is fairly cartoonish.”

“So, how do you make little angels?” Mule can’t help but ask, though he’s fairly sure that’s a little too personal.

“We don’t.” Is the answer he doesn’t expect. “The closest we can come to reproduction is nephilim, which is done in a vessel, but I’ve explained why that can’t be allowed.”

“How do you know if you’re male or female then?”   


“We’re neither. We’re angels. This whole male female thing. It wasn’t even an actual 

issue until humanity took all our pronouns and decided they were masculine. It was played with when father expanded reproduction into a binary. Obviously not everything was a binary. Reproduction was binary in that it needed a male and female pair to happen, but not the individual genders. Some animals were actually able to switch their gender completely. Some were neither some were both. There was always so much variation

“Then of course a game sprang up among the lower ranks called Male or Female. There were six categories, male, female, both, neither, fluid and ‘this is stupid we’re angels’. That last one was the largest category. It started with angels wondering what they’d be if angels had genders, getting opinions from friends, discussing the most common traits of genders between species. And then they started speculating about what other angels would be. Including the ones who didn’t participate, which created the ‘this is stupid, we’re angels’ category. Finally a few of the bravest ones decided to take on the challenge of deciding the genders of us archangels.

“Those debates grew heated until finally the participants came to an agreement. Michael was considered female because she was the strongest fiercest most powerful angel of all of us. It was also because most angels felt more comfortable thinking of her as a mother than father. And if you’ve ever seem a mother protecting her children, you’d understand even more.  Michael’s actually a ‘this is stupid we’re angels’ but she thought it was cute and a little heartwarming to be honest and tolerated it, even when I started teasing her about it. It’s habit now, honestly.

“They couldn’t decide on me for a while, then finally decided that I was male, because I was by far the most beautiful angel ever created. In most cases the males are the pretty ones, like with peacocks. It’s true I was the tallest and males are usually smaller than females, but apparently my beauty settled the issue. I honestly don’t really care and will be whatever is the most convenient for my work. But I liked the idea of Michael and me being considered a complementary pair like that.

“For the other two they just couldn’t decide. I considered Raphael neither and Gabriel 

both, but they eventually decided that since in a lot of species the males and females are rivals with their own gender, that made Raphael male and Gabrielle female. They weren’t too happy about that, but Michael preached tolerance about the foibles of our younger siblings and reminded them it didn’t actually matter because in reality we didn’t have genders. So eventually they just went with it.”

“You really love to talk, don’t you.” Mule can’t help but smile as turns off the water. Helel feels a little offended at this remark.

“If you didn’t want my company, you could have just told me so.” Helel draws back, and leaves Mule alone. Mule half wants to apologize but the truth be told he’s still a little irritated at Helel for telling Dean what he did. He understands that Dean’s attitude pissed Helel off, as it so often does him. But now he’ll have to deal with that more than he ever wanted to. Hopefully Dean won’t notice Helel’s angry lapse in pronouns.

Dean doesn’t say anything all the way to the church. Mule sits through the meeting, makes some small talk with his sponsor, who thanked him about coming over the night before and helping him stay clean. Which made Mule remember it was the anniversary of his sponsor’s car accident where his daughter died, and just told him any time, quietly thanking Helel who obviously took the call instead, because Mule was in no shape to be of help to anyone. But the angel just gets sulkier in the background.

When he finally finishes helping to put the chairs and everything away, he goes back upstairs to the main church. His brother’s just sitting at one of the pews in back. When he notices Mule come up, he motions him over. Mule’s a little reluctant to go over to him, but does. Dean doesn’t start talking until he’s sure everyone’s gone.

“So, remember my bartender job in college?” Dean leans forwards on the pew in front of him, his hands loosely clasped together.

“As much as I’ve tried to purge my brain of that knowledge, yes.” Mule awkwardly kicks at the leg of the bench in front of him.

“It was a nightmare working ladies’ night. Women do not behave themselves. Really handsy. And tended to stuff my tips in my shorts. One shoved a hundred dollar bill down deep right in the very front. She was not young, pretty, or pleasant in any way.  The men were a lot better, nicer. Though you get tired of people asking who’s the twink at the bar?” Mule gives an involuntary laugh at this. “Yeah, right? There was a lot of flirting both nights. I liked working the other nights, when I had to because I could just wear jeans and a t-shirt, but the tips generally sucked. Oh yeah, that one in the attack ad was my uniform for ladies night. I had another one for men’s night, which I’m very glad they didn’t have.” 

“Yeah, I think you showed me that one.” Mule scrunches his nose at the memory.

“Of course I did.” Dean winces a little. “Like I said, there was a lot of flirting. A lot of flirting and the better you flirted back, the better your tips.” This gets a smile from Mule imagining his brother turning on the famous Winchester charm on some big hairy biker dude. “I got bought a lot of drinks, which we really weren’t allowed to turn down. And it was a lot of drinks.  But you know I could serve ‘em but not drink ‘em for the first few years. So I ended up making myself so many tom collinses and virgin daiquiris and virgin everything, I’m sick to death of mixed drinks. Honestly I often didn’t eat the days I was working because I knew I’d drink my calories for the day that night.

“So of course, I’m not stupid, I never put my drink down, never let it out of my sight. I just gulped it down and sent the cup back to dishwashing.  So, end of the night, right? There was an extra mess so I stayed late. The last drink was bought for me just before the bar closed it doors. A long island ice tea, I thanked them, they left and I took a sip before getting called about the mess in the bathroom. So I put it down and went to help. That was a nightmare I won’t burden you with. But I finished, got changed, finished my drink and that’s about all I remember before waking up behind the dumpster in the grass by the forest behind us, and well… There was no sitting down for me for a damn good while, I’ll tell you that much.” Dean gives a humorless chuckle.

“Did… did you call the police? Go to the hospital?”

“No.” Dean shakes his head. “I didn’t. I didn’t tell anyone except one of my friends with 

benefits at the time, and Saachi because she came over to make sure I was alright when I missed classes for a week. She told me to go to the police, too. But she understood when I told her why I couldn’t. See, I’d kind of been with someone on my break earlier, and they tend to go deep into your sex life when there’s a trial. That’s if it even makes it to trial. I had my future to consider and I couldn’t let that bastard ruin it, because let’s be honest, that’s usually what happens. So, no. She did take me to get tested, though.”

“You.. you’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, the tests ended up coming back negative, and I took them several times just to be sure. I started drinking more and more but only at home.” Dean shrugs. “I never...I never thanked you… I know the accident was my fault somehow. I mean, you were the one driving, but I just know I must have distracted you or grabbed the wheel or done something. I can be an obnoxious drunk sometimes. And I was a wreck that night. The test results hadn’t come back in yet. I was struggling with the question of going back to work, not knowing if it was a customer or someone who worked there who had drugged me.  I can’t remember how much I drank that night, but I know it was a lot. More than too much if I actually gave my keys to my little brother.”

“You weren’t an obnoxious drunk and you didn’t distract me. You were just.. Quiet, looking at nothing like you didn’t even see what’s in front of you, like you started to forget I was even there. I told you, I just went a little too hard on the wheel making a turn at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I thought you said there was a deer.”

“Did I?” Mule shrugs. “I guess I forgot.”

“You should tell him the truth.” Helel decides to butt in.

“Jesus, just… not now.” Mule covers his face.

“He has the right to know what you did for him.”

“Sure and let’s let Michael know what we’re… um…” Mule stops talking as he

realizes he’s speaking out loud.

“Who are you talking to, Sam?” Dean asks gently

“I.. I’m sorry. I just.. I don’t know. I can’t really remember what happened as well as I used to.  I used to be able to but it’s been a while. I have a dozen memories of what happened and I don’t know which one is the right one. Okay?”

“Okay… but Sam… how long have you been hearing thing?” Dean keeps talking to him gently.

“I’m not hearing things.” Mule replies. “I’m fine. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

“Who’s Michael?”

“Look, why are you giving me the third degree when I want to just go home and pass out. Okay? I don’t want to talk about this stuff or think about this stuff. Or the fact that you wanted me to go to the police when you didn’t yourself. Or did you just think my life was already so ruined that it wouldn’t really matter?” Mule accuses.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry to have bothered you.” Dean snaps, and stands up, not quite stomping back out to his car.

“Wait, Dean.. I didn’t…”Mule shouts after him. “And why are you angry? I’m the one who just got called crazy!”

“Maybe he’s a little upset because he told you something incredibly personal that almost no one else knows and not only are you keeping something from him, but you start attacking him to cover it up.”

“I wasn’t attacking him,” Mule stops at the doorway to turn off the lights. “And I am keeping something from him, you.”

“You can tell him about me if you like.”

“No, I really can’t. Or mom, either. Especially not with what we’re trying to do right now. Neither of them are going to be okay with morally grey ideas they don’t come up with themselves. Besides I doubt either of them will try to do anything but exorcise and destroy you. They will hunt us down if you don’t leave and hunt you down if you go, along with keeping me prisoner in the safe house or something until they find and destroy you. Trust me on this, telling them the truth is not a good idea.”

“Why don’t you just try?”

“It’s not…”

“Try. He just opened up to you to tell you something incredibly painful to him and he did it just so you knew you weren’t alone and that you could talk to him. Take the opportunity to show him a little trust in return.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll tell him and he’ll respond and I am going to tell you I fucking told you so, over and over and over again. Okay?” Mule grits his teeth and heads out to the car. 

“At least wait until we’re home, though okay?”

“Alright. It will work out, Mule.” Helel reassures him. “If you have trouble. I’ll take over and everything will be fine.”

  
  
  



	21. Unwanted Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helel is traumatized by Mule's family.  
> Mary scars Mule for life at the diner

“He shot me.” Helel sits on the chair in the kitchen, an unconscious Dean on the floor by the doorway. “He shot us! And that actually hurt. What on earth was he using?” Helel puts his hand over the bullet hole in his shoulder, ignoring the one in his thigh.

“I told you so.” Mule says as he said he would and is promptly ignored.

“He didn’t even try to listen to us.  He just…. I thought he was supposed to be a religous man!” Helel is so indignant, but Mule knows that it has less to do with the angel possessing him, then the fact that it was Mule who’s the vessel. Dean could most likely never believe that the angel of angels would choose his brother, the broken thieving junkie who sold his soul for heroine, as his vessel. Maybe if Helel had chosen to sound disappointed or scornful of Mule and pointed out that it wasn’t his choice, Mule was simply the only one he could take without killing him in the proccess, maybe Dean might have believed. But he didn’t. Helel just stood up for him reserving his scorn for the sheriff and his assumptions.  

“Yeah... just… Can you erase this entire evening from his memory or something? Make him forget…”

“ We’re just lucky someone switched your holy oil with canola oil.” Helel looks down at the charred circle around the chair. “He shot me!”

“Yes, and Mom has the nightingale’s blade. I don’t know if that can hurt you too…”

“Actually, being an archangel blade, it’s the one thing I know of that can kill an archangel, any archangel no matter which archangel it belongs to. I don’t believe she’d kill me while I’m still inside you, but I’m fairly sure she’s not above torturing me to try to get me out. Which I won’t be able to survive given her brilliant tactic of slicing through the angel as he’s being expelled. Which honestly might end up taking out the entire city when she does so.” Helel sighs.

“Yeah, I kind of see her taking that route as well. All she she seems to do lately is hunt the Fallen. Or supernatural creatures destructive enough that it could have been one.” Sam admits. “And Dean is a lot like her. Which is why I fucking told you so!”

“It’s alright,” Helel ignores him again.“I’ll take care of this, and no we won’t tell your family about any of this until they’ve regained their faith and trust in you.  At least enough to let us speak first. What is it with you people! And I thought you were the stubborn one!”

Mule doesn’t really blame him for being upset. Going from waiting for Mule to finish talking to his brother, telling him how he met Helel and the expected disbelief. Only for Mule to suddenly go unconscious. When Helel took over he was sitting in a chair handcuffed to the back of it with a circle of fire around him, with Dean reading an exorcism. That of course wouldn’t work. When Helel tried to talk to him himself, Dean just ignored him, threw holy water in his face that was actually kind of refreshing. Then when Helel snapped the fire out, Dean shot him in the shoulder. It actually hurt, making Helel pause in surprise and that’s when Dean shot his leg. At a loss for words, the angel just snapped him unconscious.

“Just.. put him on the recliner and erase the whole evening. Like make him think he fell asleep in the chair. I’ll tell him I went by myself or something and just deal with the lecture in the morning.” Mule feels just completely exhausted by all of this.

“You really can’t remember the accident? It’s just right there. So clear in your memory. Helel retreats back inside to better interact with him. He’s just sitting in the dark looking blankly into nothingness. “Mule, Samuel, I’m sorry. I just… I just wanted you to be closer. I thought if you just reached out to him… Confided in him, told him the truth…” Helel sits in front of him.

“With everything you know about our relationship, why would you think that?” Mule looks up at him.

“You’re his little brother.”The angel replies sounding almost heartbroken. “Michael would never just…”

“Well, Dean’s not Michael, Helel, and I’m not you. Just… just let it go. You can’t fix this, Helel. Nothing’s going to fix any of this. The best I can do is just have as little to do with him as possible and when my parole is over get the hell out of Lawrence.”

“But you love each other. You care about each other. I know that no matter what you both would do anything to save each other if you were in trouble. I just feel it.”

“None of that means you have to like each other. Or trust each other or have any faith in each other. Neither does it have to mean you can’t annoy and resent the hell out each other. Do you think you can listen to about these things now? Stop trying to encourage reconciliation or force some kind of trust and closeness that isn’t there. All it’s going to do is hurt worse and worse each time it fails and with everything I’m dealing with now, I can’t take that, Helel. I can’t afford to get my hopes up and then dashed over and over again.”

“Don’t you feel lonely, though?” The sorrow in the angel’s voice draws Mule’s attention. “Not having him to spend time with, rely on, work with, knowing they’ll always have your back and always trust and love you just because you’re you? A friend a partner someone who you can trust absolutely. Someone who understand you… Wouldn’t that be worth any price?”

“We’ll get her back, Helel.” Mule shifts to embrace his angel. They just sit there quietly for a moment, Helel thinking about Michael, Mule thinking about Helel. How he’s the only archangel, left in heaven. The only one in charge, having to be strong and maintain a confident front for his younger siblings, holding himself together so they don’t fall apart. How lonely it must have been having no one he could talk to, to turn to, to trust the way he did Michael.  “I know it’s not the same, but you have me now, for as long as we can stand each other. I’ll never be Michael but you’re not alone any more.” 

“Neither are you. I’ll clean everything up.” Helel finally says. “But I’m leaving those important conversations. I’ll just erase the problem items.”

“I guess that’s good enough.” Mule gives in.

“You should still keep trying to make things better with your family. It’ll be worth every bit when you finally succeed. I promise.” Helel, of course, still pushes. He seems to believe it so firmly Mule doesn’t have the heart to disappoint him by just giving up so easily. 

“I’ll try, for you. But that’s all I can promise you.” Mule sighs. “I’d like to rest now, if that’s alright.”

“That’s just fine. I’ll take care of everything. Sweet Dreams.”

“Thanks.”

 

Mary pushes the impala slowly up the driveway as it finally broke down just as she started getting it up to the house. Her youngest runs out at the house to help her push it into the garage.

“Mom, you are sixty..”

“Fifty nine!” Mary snaps.

“Fifty nine years old. You shouldn’t be doing this kind of thing. You’ll hurt yourself.” He holds it as she goes to put it in park.

“I’m sorry, but who gave birth to who? For you to be telling me what I can and can’t do.” She snaps.

“You shouldn’t be pushing yourself beyond your capacity. You know that. You should have come and gotten me.” He says calmly like he’s chiding a small child.

“Samuel Henry Winchester, you will watch your tone with me. I am so angry with you right now, young man. So, so angry.”

“Can I ask why?”   
“Oh, I don’t know maybe because you sold your damn soul to the nightingale for some goddamn heroin?” She jerks the door inside open, not missing the brief flash of irritation he gives her at this.

“Who told you that?” He follows her in and heads to the fridge, taking out a fruit and cheese platter arranged around some small bowls of shelled nuts. “You must be hungry.” He places it on the table.

“It doesn’t matter who told me.” Mary walks over to him and grabs him by the collar. “What did I tell you? About souls? I told you never to give, trade, sell or lend your soul to anyone for any reason whether you believe in them or not. Not even if you think they’re playing, or joking or that you think you’re dreaming. Didn’t I. WELL, DIDN’T I?!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What were you thinking? How could you do this?” Mary lets go of him and goes to the fridge taking a bottle of vodka out of a tater tot bag in the freezer. “I’m getting old, Sam. I can’t keep hunting that Fallen Bitch forever and if I don’t kill her soon  you are going to go to hell when you die and there is nothing I can do about it!”

“Mom, it’s alright. I’ll be fine. It’s fine.” Sam tries to sooth her, putting his arms around her. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I let her into my house. I trusted her with my son. I thanked her. I welcomed her into the goddamn family!” She slams her fist into the counter. “I was so fucking stupid.”

“It wasn’t your fault. How could any of this be your fault? You’re a good woman and a good mother. But I’m a grown man and my mistakes are my responsibility, not yours.

“I’ll find a way.” Mary brings her hand up to rub her son’s arm. “I’ll find a way, Sam. I promise. But until your probation is over, you’re going to stay right by my side. AFter that you’ll go to Bobby and Ellen’s like you said and stay at the roadhouse until I either kill the nightingale or get your soul back. Do you understand me?” She turns around.

“Yes, mom.” her son says quietly, obediently, without any objection.

“Sam.” Mary pulls out a chair from the table so it’s facing one she sits down on “Sit down.” he does so “ Is there something wrong? Anything you need to tell me?”

“ No.”

“Give me your hand.” She asks gently. He holds out his hand. She turns it palm up with one hand and takes out her blade with the other one.

“What are you doing?” He asks calmly but a little alarmed. “Mom, I’m cleaning out dog cages for work. I really don’t need a cut on my hand right now. If you think I’m possessed or not myself or something, can’t you at least start with holy water?” he suggests though he keeps himself still.

She just cuts a slice in his palm that shows nothing but a small trickle of blood. She gives a sigh and puts it back in the sheath. Next she takes out her switchblades. The first is silver, then copper, then iron and finally a blessed one. Nothing but blood. Last but not least she takes a salt packet from her pocket, opens it with her teeth and pours it over the wound.”

“There’s some lemon juice in the fridge.” the sarcastic response is pure Sam, so she takes a cup of holy water and a cloth napkin and washes his hand off a little before wrapping the napkin around it.

“I’m sorry.” She kisses the hand. “I just… I had to make sure. I’ll borrow your brother’s

car and take you to your appointments tomorrow.”

“What happened to the impala?” her son asks.

“It’s… I burned out the engine with the nitro boost.” She goes to grab the emergency medical kit from the wall by the garage door.

“Nitro boost?” He frowns at her.

“How do you think I got here so fast? It’s fine. I have enough parts to fix it in the garage already.”Mary reassures him.

“I’ll take care of this.” He takes the kit from her. “You get some rest.”

“I can get it.” Mary’s protest is pretty weak, though.

“Really, mom, it’s fine.” He kisses her cheek. “You get some rest.”

“Okay.” She gives in and slowly walks her way up the staircase.

“Your mother is a force to be reckoned with.” Helel wakes Mule as the sun comes up. “I had to make her think she was cutting my hand with Gabriels blade about an inch over it or she’d have caught me. She knew I wasn’t you, but luckily she was exhausted so after some basic tests she let it go.”

“Yeah, you’d better let me interact with my family as much as you can help it.” Mule sighs. “You didn’t heal them all did you? Because she’ll definitely notice if you did.”

“No, and I had to make the one she thought she did as well. It definitely won’t get infected though, I promise that much.”Helel spreads a little bit of honey over the wounds and properly bandages them. “Gabrielle… apparently she told her about having your soul. I can’t let her kill my little sister, Mule.”

“I understand, but what can we do about that?”

“It’ll be a moot point until your off probation, but I just needed to make that clear. Also your mother will be sticking to you like a shadow until then. We’ll have to do our work at night, so I’ll just make sure she sleeps through the night.”

“Thanks. I’ll look things over during the day and see if I can think of anything.” Mule informs him.

“If you like.” Mule can tell from Helel’s rather fond but patronizing tone that the angel finds it an adorable but pointless gesture.

“How is the soul collection going?”

“Well, I only got two hundred twenty three souls from the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum. There would have been more, but when I announced my intentions some of them crossed over. The Stanley Hotel had a disappointing forty seven. Eastern State Penitentiary had only thirty six. I was incredibly surprised that the Aukigahara forest were still guarded by shinigami.  It wouldn’t have been too hard to destroy them all, but we really can’t afford the war with the pagan psychopomps right now. We just don’t have the time.

“I got eighty five from Centralia, though. Now I just have to find a hundred and nineteen more.” Helel sighs.

“Did you try the Sedlee Ossuary in the Czeck Republic?”

“No, but unfortunately I’d been having my angels purge all the roman catacombs on a regular basis. Mostly keeping track of the soul hounds who did the fetching. They just seem to collect there after a while. You have no idea what would have come of the Roman empire if I hadn’t. Vatican city is over the epicenter and helps repel wandering spirits from the area. The same for most large underground tombs. For the Abrahamic religions generally, and atheists.

“We have an uneasy truce with the pagan underworlds. The souls they claim would generally be condemned and sent to hell otherwise. And I don’t want hell to have any more souls than absolutely necessary. The Fallen don’t need to get any more powerful than they are. Plus the pagan underworlds have a pact with each other, if heaven invades one, then all of them fight against us. We’d eventually crush them of course but not only would billions of souls be instantly hellbound, but there would be an overwhelming amount of human casualties. Kind of what you might refer to as an apocalypse.”

“What about haunted battle grounds from the civil war?” Mule suggests. “Or current war grounds?”

“That could be an idea.” Helel sounds a little surprised. “but in current war areas some ghost are still new enough that they could still be saved and brought to heaven. I don’t want to risk them.”

“There are alot of old asylums around, too. I’ll try to look a few up.” Mule offers.

“And  once that’s done we have to get the rest of the usable corpses. We’ve gathered about four hundred. They’re frozen at the moment in a place where I keep the souls I’ve collected so far. We should be ready when the time comes.”

“Good.” Mule gives a sigh. “What about Dean?”

“It’s taken care of.” Helel reassures him. “Everything will be alright, Samuel. I promise you.”

“And we will get Michael back.” Mule reassures him in return. “Let me back up front so I can take care of my day. We can talk more later.”

“Alright. Try not to lose your temper with your family. They love you, and mean well.”

“I know.”

 

“You know,” Mary says as the waitress leaves the table. “She definitely making some serious eyes at you.”

“She’s a waitress. Mom. It’s her job to be friendly.” Mule picks at his brownie sundae.

“I think you should ask her out.” Mary digs into hers.

“Mom…”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you checking her out.” She winks at him.

“Mom!” he whisper, giving her that look, as the waitress comes back with the receipt and Mule’s debit card. “Thank you.” He smiles at her, and gives her a good tip when he signs it.

“Come back any time.” Kylie winks at him and goes back to tend to another table. Mary snatches his copy of the receipt before he can and holds it up to show him the number on the back with the note ‘call me. Kylie’

“Just friendly huh?” Mary waves it. “You should call her and ask her out on a date.”

“Sure mom. I’ll call her ask her if she wants to have dinner with me and my mother. Watch a movie with me and my mother, and then maybe me and my mother can go back to her place for a nightcap. Or are you just going to be stalking us from the shadows?”

“You could bring her back to the house.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll ask her to come back to my place, where I live with my mother.”

“Look, I’m not saying marry the girl. Just you’re still a young man. I may be your mother, but I do know that people have needs.”

“Oh my god, mom.” Mule covers his face, trying to hide.

“I know it’s been a while and maybe it’s hard to move on, but we’re not talking about a relationship here.” Mary reminds him.

“If only.”

“God knows, I understand. I haven’t exactly had a real relationship since your father died. My lifestyle isn’t really conducive for that, you know. But it’s not as if I’ve been celibate for thirty years.” She shrugs.

“Mom, please, just... Please stop.” Mule tried to erase himself from existence.

“Maybe not today, maybe not her. But you’ve got to get back out there. Human beings need that kind of closeness with other human beings. Promise me you’ll start thinking about it at least.”

“If I do will you stop talking about it?” Mule asks. Mary just nods. “Okay, I’ll think about it. Can we just finish eating please?”

“Of course.” Mary goes back to her brownie sundae. It takes a minute but Mule goes back to his. “I’m sorry, Sam. All of this is happening to you because of me.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not, mom.”

“It is, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think… I didn’t think she’d ever find you, but that was my mistake.”Mary looks down. “And maybe I can save your soul, but I don’t want her to have your heart too.” Mule doesn’t say anything to this, he just eats his sundae. “Do you still love her, Sam?”

“No, I don’t know. I didn’t even really know her do I? I mean I fell in love with someone she probably just made up to snare me with. Sometimes I hate her, sometimes I just can’t. I can never forgive her for what she’s done, but...It’s all just so painful to think about,mom and I really don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“I know, sweetie, but just know I’ll take care of everything.” Mary reaches over and squeezes his hand. “Or die trying.”

“Don’t talk about dying, mom.” he squeezes her hand back.

“Okay, I won’t.”

“And you really need to retire.”

“No. Not while she’s still out there. Not while she owns your soul.”

“Mom…”

“That’s enough, Sam. I’m your mother, remember?” She puts a hand on his cheek. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I wish you’d stop hunting.”

“Oh, Sam-a-lam, it’s just who I am.” Mary smiles. “But I’ll tell you what, once we get everything taken care of with your parole, I’d be more than happy to take you hunting with me. Does that sound better?”

“Well, I guess. I mean I was thinking of going to college like you wanted me to, but…” Mule shrugs.

“Go to college.”

“Go hunting. Go to Ellens. Now go to college. You’re going to have to make up your mind, mom.” Mule grins. Mary just gives a wry grin back and lightly smacks his cheek.

“I just want to keep you safe, Sam-a-lam.”

“I know, Mom. I know.”


	22. Knocking at Death's door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helel summons Death  
> Helel can't drive.

“Samuel.” Mule’s woken by the archangel. “We’re ready. It’s time. Will you join me?”

“Sure.” Mule slowly comes back into awareness and take what he now considers the copilot’s seat where he can see from his own eyes and hear from his own ears.  Everything else is Helel’s and Mule’s words are nothing but thoughts in his head heard only by his angel. It’s fairly disconcerting but he’s getting used to it. And it’s better than waiting in the background. Besides, he gets the feeling Helel needs some extra emotional support for this. Sure the angel is trying to gives off the impression that he’s all settled and confident in his decision, but that’s just a front. Mule’s been in this position where there are no good options and the option of no action is intolerable. But this is for Michael. Despite the ethical questions involved in this, Helel can’t just leave her to suffer for another thousand years. So neither can Mule. He’s a marine after all. He’s no stranger to ethically ambiguous actions. But you never leave a man behind, no matter what you have to do. That doesn’t make it easy, though. And it doesn’t mean you’re not haunted by the questions of whether you made the right choices.

Suddenly they’re standing on barren land of dust and piles and rocks. There’s a mound of rocks piles so high it’s almost a hill. There’s no one around, only little trees and animals that he can see.

“Where are we?”Mule asks.

“The site of the Mazocoba Massacre, when the Mexican army attempted to wipe out the Yaqui. Over a thousand people died here. We’re about twenty miles east of Guayama. The bodies we collected are frozen under those rocks, as are the containers of souls I gathered.” Helel snaps his fingers and instead of the mound, the bodies are all laid out, as good as new. “She’ll never forgive me for this.”

“I don’t know her well enough to say, but if you prefer not to let her out until you can do it in a way you know she’ll approve of, I’ll be there for you as long as you need me to be.”

“No.” Helel takes a breath. “I won’t leave her there.”

“I’m with you a hundred percent for that, too.” Mule reminds him. “Whatever you need from me, I’ll give it to you.”

“Thank you.” Helel raises his hand and snaps again, joining five hundred souls with five hundred bodies in one of the largest mass resurrections ever done.  They all just stand there blankly waiting as Helel turns and stares up at the stars waiting for midnight.

“So all this is necessary to summon death.” Mule muses.

“Summon and bind him.” Helel replies. “Well not exactly summon. We’re just bringing forth the vessel in which he can walk the earth. The reapers do most of the work collecting souls, but he likes to do some things personally. We had to take it away from him a couple times under our father’s orders. Michael and I together could do it easily, but without her, this is apparently my only option.”

“You… you’re taking the vessel away again, aren’t you?”

“No. He was never supposed to lose it for this long to be honest.” Helel sighs. “And binding him is just to make him stay long enough to listen to my request. Speaking of which, you did get the things I asked you to, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, they’re in the mini fridge. I’m still not sure why you wanted them.”

“Bribes. We’re going to need all the help we can get.” Helel confesses and snaps his fingers.

“We offer up our lives, blood, souls to complete this tribute.” All five hundred people behind them say in robotic unison. With another snap of the fingers there’s the sound of what must be five hundred bodies falling to the ground. The ground before them starts to rumble and split as Helel recites words Mule can’t understand, and moves his hands together then apart a short distance, halting his movements with a jerk as if coming to the end of a short chain. He then pushes it towards the arising figure.

“You again.” The pale drawn figure of a man steps down on the edge of the cracked earth. “I really don’t have time for this.”

“Death… Uncle…” Helel begins contritely. “I’m sorry it’s taken this long to give you back your body. Michael was banished to the cage before we could give it back to you and I need your ring to help free her.”

“You had no business taking it in the first place.”Death reminds him.

“We were only doing what our father commanded. But I am sorry for it. I’ve brought you a few things as a further apology,” Helel snaps his fingers placing the large tub of Death by Chocolate, stacks of white castle burgers, and a rack of the Lawrence Diner’s famous fried ribs with plenty of barbecue sauce to dip them in.

“Had you not bound me. It might have been welcome. As it is, I do not appreciate your attempts to butter me up and quite frankly, I’m surprised your little cheat of a tribute actually worked. However I also do not appreciate you making my reapers gather the same souls twice for any reason. To do it to summon me is fairly insulting.”

“Oh, these souls were never reaped, they were ghosts.”Helel informs him, “And I’m afraid it was the best I could do.” The angel looks down at his hands. “I only bound you to make you stay and hear me out.”

“Not to force me to give you the ring you’ve were pestering me about?”

“No.” Helel doesn’t exactly lie. Death just looks at him.

“If I lend it to you I assume you will stop pestering me and will have no reason to bind or summon me again.”

“Yes. And we’ll give it right back when we’re through with it.” Helel promises. “I’m sorry I did this, but I have to rescue Michael. She’s everything in the world to me.”

“Hmm.”Death eyes him.

“As a show of good faith.”Helel snaps his fingers removing the binding.

“Very well. Give it to Azrael and she’ll bring it to me personally. No excuses.” Death slides his ring off.

“Yes, Uncle. Thank you.” Helel can’t help look at the ring as Death starts to hold it out then pauses. 

“If you ever take my body again, you or your sister, be assured that you will lose yours permanently.” 

“Understood sir.” Helel humbly accepts the ring from him, though Mule feels a little uneasy at the threat given he is the body in question. Death and the food disappear into the night. Helel turns back to look at the field of dead bodies behind them and immolates them, turning them into dust that he scatters into the wind.

“You could have just put them back.” Mule comments.

“No, that would cause much more of a commotion than leaving their disappearances a mystery. And that would draw attention to our activities. Possibly your mother’s attention.” Helel sighs. “ I should probably fix this as well.” He turns to close up the rift in the earth’s crust. The ground trembles again but now everything is back the way it was. Helel just stands there, looking at the barren land.

“We should probably get home. We still have to find the other three horsemen.”

“Only two of them. You mother already defeated War, and swallowed his ring to hide it from Gabrielle. We’ll retrieve it from her when we have the others.”

“I don’t want to steal from my mother again. We’ll have to convince her to give it to us.” Mule insists, though he knows that flies in the face of his insistence that his family will never react in anything but a suspicious and combative manner. But he can’t do it. He won’t cross that line again.

“I assume I can’t convince her the way I convinced you.” Helel jokes

“By beating me senseless and then hysterically bursting into tears? No, probably not.” Mule can’t help but tease him.

“I did not hysterically burst into tears.” Helel scornfully corrects him. “I wept for my tortured imprisoned sibling.”

“Pot-ay-to, pot-ah-to.”Helel ignores him. “I can’t believe Mom defeated the physical incarnation of war.” Mule changes the subject. “I mean, I know she’s a badass. But isn’t she kind of old?”

“Your mother is the most deadly hunter alive. She’s slain over a dozen of my 

siblings.” Helel informs him quietly, almost as if he’s mourning them.

“I thought she only killed the Fallen.”

“Fallen angels are still angels and they’re still my siblings, Samuel.” The angel 

reminds him. “I wasn’t able to save them and now I never will be. But she was protecting humanity. Maybe I should have made that my priority over my siblings salvation, but…”

“But they’re your brothers and sisters, and you would never give up on them. You won’t hear any recriminations from me. I love that about you.”

“Thank you for understanding, not many people do. Not even Michael really does, honestly. She’ll be angry with me for not trying to wipe them all out when she was gone. It should be enough that I finished off the remnants of the nephilim threat, but it won’t be. She’s very demanding, not the most forgiving. But I can generally calm her down before she goes too far, and make things right. Not all the time, but enough. Honestly, I kind of miss fighting with her, too.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll fight with her again. Probably as soon as she’s out of the cage.” Mule’s teasing actually gets a laugh out of his angel.

“I’ll try not to be in you when she kicks my ass.” Helel promises.

“Thanks I’d appreciate that.” Mule sighs. “We should be getting back   
, though.”

“Do you think we could look at the stars together?”Helel asks.

“Sure.” Mule smiles and Helel takes him to the roof of the house.

“You know Michael placed the stars?”Helel lies down on the tiles, so they can just look up and see nothing but the sky. The street lights flicker out to give them a better view.”

“No, I didn’t know.” Mule lies as this seems to be Helel’s favorite story. That and there are new details and detours each time.

“I was given dominion over the earth and Michael had the stars. It took so long and we were so far apart from each other for so long. We sent Gabriel back and forth between us with messages to each other, mostly to keep her out of trouble. It was longer than this so far. But the messages kept us together. It was hard, but not like this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Helel says and tells him stories the rest of the night of what the earth was like. How the angels had fun playing with the dinosaurs, and walking among the trees without fear of hurting people. How when Michael came back she held Helel in her arms as they both sat on a mountain top and looked up at the stars. And again he tells how she placed venus the morning star, but this time he adds how Michael punched Helel when he pointed out it was a planet not a star.

Mule talks about Aaron, remembering things he’d briefly forgotten. Some missions some revelries their plan to come back to Lawrence together, maybe even go hunting together. How Aaron was to him what Helel wants Dean to be.

“I could go talk to Aaron for you. Help him meet you in a dream.”

“I don’t want to take him away from heaven. Let him be happy.”

“I think he’d be happier knowing that you’re alive and okay.”

“But I’m not okay, Helel. I’m a disgraced, thieving junkie ex-convict who sold my soul to the devil for some heroin. What part of that would reassure him? He knows me too well for me to lie to him. If you want him to believe I’m alive and okay, you should be the one to tell him. He’ll believe you.”

“I will, but if you were in his place and he was in yours, what would you want to do?”Helel asks gently. Mule doesn’t reply. “Anyway, I should be going back to heaven for a little while. Make sure everything’s running smoothly, consult with the librarian directly. I’m sure there are some resources that aren’t allowed to be copied. It’ll only take a few of your days, but since you can’t afford to disappear for any length of time, I’ll simply leave your vessel, and ask you to  let me back in when I’m done. Is that alright? Will you be okay when I’m gone?”

“I should be.”

“Maybe you could call that waitress.”

“Not you, too.” Mule groans.

“Establishing a physical bond with another person can help speed the healing process when you have a broken heart. Humans have physical needs that can’t be denied. And I don’t want you to hurt because of Gabrielle any more than you have to, Samuel.”

“I can’t believe an angel, the archangel Helel Ben Sahar is telling me I need to get laid.” Mule just shakes his head in disbelief.

“If our job was to police and limit human sexuality we’d never be able to do anything else. And the human race would be alot smaller. Granted that would be alot easier on us in regards to protecting and taking care of you, but it’s never been a priority.”

“Well, it’s not as if I can date with you in here with me.” Mule informs him.

“Well, not without a condom. I have no desire to make a child I’d just have to end up killing when it’s born. Besides I’d just lock myself in another room, so to speak and give you your privacy.”

“That’s not enough privacy. Not to mention consent issues. And it’s not like she’s signing up for a threesome. Besides what am I going to do? Ask her if she’s okay with my having an angel hiding in my body while we do it? Because making her think I’m psychotic isn’t exactly going to enhance the mood.”

“Point taken. I’ll just leave then when you’re having a date. But aside from that, it shouldn’t keep you from self…”

“Nope! We are not going there. Understand? In fact we are not discussing any subject even related to sex and sexuality ever again. Okay?”

“Alright. If that’s what you want. But just know you can talk to me about anything. Trust me there’s not much I haven’t seen or heard about. There is nothing new under the sun.”

“Fine just know it’s as off limits to you as it is with my mother.”

“Alright.” Helel agrees and is silent for a moment. “I think she’ll like your mother.”

“What? Who?”

“Michael.” Helel gives a fond smile.

“Oh. Probably.” Mule shrugs. “I should go back inside. It’s getting time for me to get up.”

“Take me out of town so I can leave you without being noticed. There are several early risers on this block. Your mother would get suspicious.” 

“Sure. Let’s take my motorcycle so I can get back in time for work.” Mule agrees.

“Can I drive it?” Helel asks, surprising his vessel.

“You.. want to drive it?”

“I do. I’ve actually been wanting to try it since that time we rode it together.”

“Um, sure, I guess.” Mule lets the angel keep control as he takes them down to the garage.

 

“Where the hell have you been?” Is Dean’s response as his brother walks his mangled motorcycle up the driveway, appearing as soon as he hears the garage door open.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Mule mumbles, his teeth clenched. I want to drive he said. How hard can it be, he said. I’ve got this, he said. No he fucking did not!

“What the hell happened to your bike? How can you still move it?” Dean comes forwards absolutely astonished.

“I took a corner too fast and it ended up smashing into a rock on the side of the road before tumbling to the bottom of the ravine, fortunately I’d fallen off it first.”

“Are you alright?!”

“Peachy.”

“Sam, you don’t just walk away from that kind of accident with just scratches and mild bruises.”

“What can I say? It must have been a miracle.” Mule puts the destroyed thing back in its place in the garage and gives a depressed sigh.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.” Dean grabs his brother’s arm and pulls him over to his car. Mule decides not to resist as he’s fairly sure he might end up punching his brother if only because he’s just so completely pissed off he wants to punch something, anything. When he sits in the passenger’s seat, Dean takes his phone out. “Hey, mom. I found him. He went out for a ride on his bike and had a major crash. He looks okay, he says he’s okay, but I’m taking him to the hospital just in case… I’m pretty sure he was, since his brains aren’t splattered all over the highway.” Dean starts driving.

“You know talking on your phone while driving is illegal now, right?”

“Why didn’t you call somebody?” Dean demands, ignoring Mule’s catty remark.

“I forgot my phone.” Mule says honestly. “Speaking of which, I need to call my boss. Can I use your phone?”

“The usual,” Dean says into the phone. “I’ll see you there.” It takes about five minutes before Dean starts ripping him a new one. What was he even doing out there alone? Why was he out there? He could have been killed. A lecture on danger, a lecture on responsibility, and another one on always having your phone on you at all times. On getting enough sleep. On how the nightingale is after him to get back at Mary. He doesn’t bring up how if Mule dies now he’s going to hell, so it means he doesn’t know.

There are x-rays and examinations. He has a respectable amount of bruises and scratches a few strained muscles, mostly from dragging the motorcycle back up to the road and pushing it ten miles home. They told him he was beyond lucky, not that he can really appreciate it right now. When he gets released, his mother drive him home and gave him the exact same lectures all over again, plus the hell one. It was almost midnight until he was finally allowed to go to sleep, and it felt great.


	23. Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helel and Mule fight and make up.

“How was your weekend.” Mule hears as he finds himself on the sand at a beautiful lagoon. He just tightens his lips and looks out over the water. “Are you angry with me?”  
“Angry? Why would I be angry with you? You only totaled my motorcycle, didn’t bother to fix it, and left me stranded on the side of the road! What’s to be angry about!”  
“You said it was fine and you’d just call a tow truck.” Helel reminds him. “You said you had triple A.”  
“I forgot my phone. And it’s still totaled!”  
“You shouldn’t be riding things like that regardless of what condition it was in. It can’t even handle the simplest of turns.”  
“You were going over a hundred miles per hour! I told you that you were going too fast! Do you know how much that bike cost me? Do you know how much it’s going to cost to fix it? If it even can be fixed which it might not be. Not to mention that the cost of buying an new one. And my insurance? It’ll cover maybe half of what it’ll take to replace it and more than make up for it in the increase in my payments!”  
“I can fix it for you now and improve the efficiency. I studied mechanical engineering and motorcycle designs while I was at the library.” Helel informs him, sitting next to him on the sand.   
“No, you can’t. My mother and brother have already seen the bike, besides it at the garage so Billy can take a look at it, see if anything’s salvageable.” Mule scowls. “Do you know how hard I worked to get that thing? How long it took me to convince Mom to let me even get a motorcycle licence? I had to promise to take the SAT’s”  
“I’ll find a way to make it up to you, Samuel.” Helel promises quietly.  
“You didn’t even listen to me! Do you ever actually listen to anything I have to say? Or do you just ignore everything I say because you’re sure you know better than me?” Mule accuses turning to face him.  
“Samuel,” Helel pat his head.”I generally do know better.”  
“Not about riding a fucking motorcycle, you don’t.” Mule shoots back. “And not about asking out that waitress or about my relationship with my family either! So maybe you should take your head out of your goddamn ass and consider there are things you might not know anything about!” Helel just slaps him upside the back of the head and not overly gently either. “Excuse me?” Mule gives him an astonished look.  
“I have asked you repeatedly not to take my father’s name in vain and I am tired of your constant disrespect!” Helel gets to feet just before Mule does.  
“You know what? Fuck you, and fuck your fucking father, too!” When Helel punches him in the face, Mule returns the gesture and they end up in an all out brawl where the angel once again kicks his ass, twice, though the third time Mule wins.  
“Did you just let me win?” Mule looks down at the pinned angel, who still looks a little pissed off but not as much as before.  
“I’m tired of beating on you. I mean there comes a point when it’s no longer a fight but just… abuse. Besides, you didn’t seem like you were going to stop until you won.” Helel says calmly. “I do find it interesting that you were a lot more brutal with me in your body than you were with me in the last one.”  
“You didn’t wreck my fucking bike last time.”  
“Are you still going on about that? I mean it was weeks ago I don’t understand how you can still be upset about it.”  
“It happened YESTERDAY!”  
“Oh, right earth time. It was still just an accident.” Helel points out. Mule just glares at him, still pinning the angel down. “What do you want? I offered to fix it. I asked you if you wanted me to stay or take you somewhere. I don’t know what else I can do.”  
“I fucking apology would be nice.”  
“Maybe I would have apologized if you didn’t start insulting my father!”  
“I don’t care about your father. I hate your father. Your father doesn’t do shit. He abandoned all of us. No matter how innocent, how good, how kind, how faithful, he lets us suffer and die. And if we fall short of expectations he sends us to hell with eternal suffering and torment. So tell me why I should have any respect for that bastard at all? Or his name?” Mule demands.  
“Because he CREATED YOU! He created everyone and everything that ever existed. And he gave us minds of our own. He didn’t leave us just puppets to his will, we decide our own actions, our own fate. Maybe you don’t know him and never met him, but I have and he is the most wonderful loving father in all of creation. Your father was a piece of shit next to him.” Helel counters. He can see the anger starting well up in Mule’s eyes again. “Oh, What? You don’t like people talking shit about your father? Does it maybe piss you the fuck off?” Mule doesn’t say anything.  
“So, what?” Helel continues. “You think you’ve seen things I haven’t seen a million times before? You think I’m not angry when I see what you people do to each other? To the earth? Cursing my father’s name and blaming him for the things other humans have done. Humanity is the most disrespectful, ungrateful, arrogant, destructive thing he has ever created and yet he asked us, told us to make you our first priority, even before him. So I am and I will not matter what you people do. Because he fucking asked me to and I will do ANYTHING for him!” Helel uses a burst of strength to get Mule off of him, rolling to pin him down. “Now maybe I have to put up with this shit from every other human being in all of existence, but I am sure as hell not taking it from you! Do you understand me?”  
Mule nods, though he’s still pissed off and still just wants to fight something, anything.  
“So fuck you, Mule.” Helel lets go of him. “Fuck you.” He vanishes, leaving the beach behind.  
“I never should have filled in that damn tattoo.” Mule grumbles and just covers his eyes with his arm.

 

The entire rest of the week, Mule can’t shake his bad mood, just hating everyone and everything. His mother tries to cheer him up and get him to talk to her, but that’s never going to happen. Dean gave him shit about not taking out his bad mood on everybody else, which only makes Mule angrier, just like every time Dean opens his mouth and lectures and scolds him like he’s a small child.  
His sponsor finally calls to check on him since he hasn’t heard from him in a while and isn’t been able to go the meetings on the same nights as Mule for the next few weeks. As he usually does. Mule didn’t intend to vent about Helel totaling his bike and what a conceited, arrogant, thoughtless asshole he is. But all it does it start to make him feel petty and guilty and depressed, but still somehow angry and really really wanting a hit.

“I’m sorry I destroyed your motorcyle.” Mule hears before the dream can even fully start.  
“I”m sorry I was talking shit about your father,” Mule apologizes. “I’d have beaten the hell out me, too.”  
“I understand. I’ve been angry with him,too. I’ve said things I shouldn’t have, maybe just as bad and to his face. That’s.. That’s why he left after all.”  
“You said,” Mule looks over at him.  
“Sometimes I think that’s the reason he won’t come back, because so many of you people keep saying and thinking things like that as well.”  
“Is.. is he gone for good then?”  
“I don’t know. We don’t know where he is, what he’s doing when he’s coming back. But we’re doing our best. As much as we’d want to, we can’t be everywhere at once. We’re so incredibly outnumbered. We can’t do everything. And you don’t know how hard it was. Losing Dad and Michael at the same time. The little ones were devestated. It was so hard holding everything together, helping them through it.  
“But I have faith that even if we don’t have him around, he’s still helping and caring for us, even if we don’t see it. He’s still somewhere, so he’s not really gone. He’s just.. Punishing me.” Helel sits down on the tower steps. “I deserve it after what I said to him and what I let happen to Michael.”  
“Michael was the favorite, huh?” Mule gives a smile. He knows what that’s like.  
“No, my father doesn’t have favorites. Not until you people came anyways.”  
“Ohhh so you were his favorite.” Mule grins, because only the favorite could say there wasn’t one and believe it.  
“Some people thought so.” Helel can’t help but be a little smug. “We did have a very close relationship. Of course, Raphael said I only got so much attention because I was so… I’m not sure if it better translates to Extra or High Maintenance. But he was just jealous.“ Helel give Mule a dark look as the man tries unsuccessfully to hide a smile.  
“Maybe both.” Mule suggests, composing himself. “I doubt he’s punishing you. Parents understand their children will get angry at them. I mean he didn’t cast you out of heaven, right? So he can’t have been too angry. He didn’t send to you hell.”  
“No, but sometimes it feels like it.” Helel looks blankly at the forest overtaking the ruins. Mule just puts his arm around the angel’s shoulder and lets Helel rest his head on his shoulder. “Anyway, I know you’re upset about more than just the bike. Was it your date? Your family giving you trouble? I know you’ve been wanting your drug and that’s why you’ve been wanting me, even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself. That’s why I’m here.”  
“Why do you really even care? You don’t even actually like humanity, you can’t possibly think that much of me.”  
“It’s not that I don’t like humanity. I love you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t do stuff to piss me off. Like… say you made this gigantic fort and city of legos for a younger sibling of yours to play with. And it was your masterpiece and you loved it and you were so excited to see how much they loved it too. And then they come and immediately start wrecking the place. Just tearing off legos, stepping and tripping over little structures destroying them, and what’s worse they keep asking you to fix it for them just to destroy it even worse next time. How would you feel?”  
“I’d… probably feel mad as hell.”Mule confesses. “Jo actually did stuff like that when we were little. I wanted to punch her. I think I did once. Dean spanked the hell out of me.”  
“Just because you love someone doesn’t mean they can’t drive you crazy. But I do love humanity and sometimes I see some people who are everything our Father intended you to be and it’s kind of worth it. Children are adorable of course and it’s fun to see things you come up with. I have to admit I have a special fondness for the mischievous ones. The little pranksters.”Helel confesses with a smile. “And I care about you, Mule, not just because I care about everyone, but because I think you’re one of those special people that proves Dad was right to make humanity at all. After all you were made for me. You’re father’s gift to me. Thinking about it, I think maybe I’m supposed to be his gift to you. I’m going to try a little harder to be.”  
“Yeah, too bad he didn’t leave us with the instruction manuals.” Mule grins, making Helel laugh.  
“So, tell me about why I was so wrong about calling the waitress.”Helel nudges Mule’s leg with his own.  
“Oh, Jesus, where to start.” Mule winces. “So I call her and we set up a date for friday night. Typical dinner and a movie first date kind of thing. We had dinner and she asked me about myself, and aparrently she’d asked around about me. She asked if I was really sent to prison for drugs. I didn’t lie, but she didn’t seem to mind Mom, of course, was there just sitting at the bar and I had to explain my situation, as embarrassing as it was, and then we went to the movies. We sat in the last row. Mom took the seat right up front. Kaylie whispers to me and we sneak out of the movie as soon as it begins. We go to her car and go park somewhere private. She tells me I’m obviously not boyfriend material, but bad boys make her really hot. Not the greatest thing to hear, but there was a significant attraction so we moved to the back seat. We started making out, getting all hot and heavy and… I couldn’t do it.” Mule covers his face.  
“Physically or emotionally?” Helel asks, of course.  
“Kind of both.” Mule confesses. “I just.. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Bree. And I couldn’t take it and I couldn’t do it and I could.. I just had her drive me back to the movie theater. We parted ways and nowI have one more humiliating rumor to add to the Lawrence gossip chain.” Helel gently rubs his back as he speaks, which helps a little bit, but not much.  
“I don’t want to think about her.” Mule continues. “I don’t want to want her. I hate her for what she tried to do to mom and I will never forgive her for that. But still sometimes I find myself missing her, or at least what she was pretending to be. And I hate myself for it. Sometimes I think I may even still love her, and I hate myself even more.”  
“It’s alright, Samuel. She can be pretty easy to love when she wants to be. She showed you her best, I’m sure. Her laughter, her smiles, her songs, her sense of humor. I understand, believe me, I understand. But it’s better for you to just let her go. It’ll be easier in time. “Helel moves back and starts massaging his shoulders. “If you like you can fall in love with me instead. You can’t have me either but at least I won’t destroy your life and try to kill your mother.” This makes Mule start laughing slightly more than Helel thinks is appropriate for his little joke.

Mary looks up from her coffee as she hears her son coming down the stairs humming an upbeat tune. It’s as close as he can get to singing even close to in tune.  
“Good morning.” he smiles at her, and comes to give her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry I’ve been in such a bad mood, Mom. Thanks for putting up withe me.” Mule kisses her cheek again, and gives her a squeeze.  
“Don’t worry about it.” Mary pats his arm. “So I take it things are going well with Kylie?”   
“No. I’m just... not ready to date yet. And it’s fine. I still have a lot of stuff to work through.”  
“True. But you know we’re here for you, your brother and me.” Mary rubs his arm as he rests his cheek on her head. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? If you’re upset. If something’s bothering you. There’s nothing you could say to me that would make me stop loving you. Nothing you could do.”  
“I know, mom. I love you, too.”  
“You know, I was thinking. Maybe we could go and get you a new motorcycle today.”  
“I’m not sure I have enough for one yet.” Mule sighs. “Eventually I’ll get an old One to fix up. But probably not for a little while.”  
“Actually, I was thinking of buying it for you.” Mary grins.  
“Really? Why? You don’t even want me to ride one, much less go anywhere without you.” Mule stands up straight. “What would be the point?”  
“I know. And I know you’re chafing under this and I understand. You’re a thirty year old man and here you must feel like we’re treating you like a child or something. It’s just… I can’t let her hurt you anymore. I failed you so badly and I’ll never forgive myself if I let it happen again.”  
“Mom.” Sam sits down next to her. “I’m pretty sure I’m not in as much danger as you think I am.”  
“Oh?” Mary raises an eyebrow.  
“You see as long as you’re alive, you would march into the depths of hell to save me if I died. Anything else, temptation, torture, I can handle it and there’ll be time enough to tell you about it and you can help me. The person you have to worry about is yourself, mom. I want my freedom back. And yes you are both treating me like a child. You keep forgetting that I was hunting in the marines. I led my own team, mom. Successfully over dozens of missions. I was promoted to first sergeant, I did so well. I want you both to remember that and start treating me like a grown man who can take care of himself and not have you and Dean micromanaging my every move. I’m doing everything I’m supposed to do. You’re not even giving me a chance to do it on my own.”  
“We’re just trying to help you.” Mary protests a little.  
“I know and I appreciate that, but even if the Nightingale is going to come after me, kill me even, at least let me live first.” Mule looks up at her with those sad eyes, his lips not quite pouting in that look that’s so hard to resist.  
“Okay. Okay, Sam-a-lam. You’re right. I shouldn’t be treating you like a child. You’ve proven more than capable of taking care of yourself and I do need to let you take care of yourself. It’s going to be hard for me but I’ll do my best to respect your wishes. I am going to have to be driving you around still since your bike got wrecked. Just promise me, if anything happens, you’ll let me know, alright?”  
“I promise, mom,” Mule smiles and silently thanks Helel for his help in having this conversation. “I promise.”


	24. What The Heart Hungers For

It’s a used motorcycle. And in need of a few repairs. But it’s reasonably priced and his mother said they could work on it together, fixing it up in no time. Helel said it would be a good bonding experience, and stayed in the background whispering instructions and hints to Mule. Apparently the angel was serious when he said he’s researched motorcycles. It actually ends up being kind of fun both working with Helel and his mother.

In their spare time they research the news for plagues or illnesses breaking out. The angels have been ordered to listed for prayers for healing and  where they’re located as well as prayers for relief from overwhelming desire. Pestilence and famine.

Then all of a sudden they see it, ‘Partying Out of Control in Yuma, Arizona’. A record number of deaths by overdoses of drugs and alcohol. There are murders and even reports of a suspected new drug that causes cannibalism, a few lovers eating themselves to death Grocery stores are being emptied almost daily. There’s also a warning not to try any new designer drugs in case one of them is responsible for this. There’s also the recommendation to drink nothing but bottled water in case something has be placed in the public water supply.

“Sam.” Mary comes into the living room. “There’s an emergency situation that someone should have fucking called me on earlier. I’m needed on a hunt, I should be gone for at least a week.” She kisses his cheek and pauses to look at the end of the Yuma report. “If anything goes wrong, if you have any trouble, remember the safe room. And always carry holy water with you. Use a spray bottle you get more surface area and total uses out of it.” She rests her head against his for a minute.

“I will.” Mule pats her hand and watches as she leaves. “You think she’s going to Yuma?” He asks Helel.

“I’m almost sure of it.” The angel replies. “We have to get there first. But that won’t be a problem.”

“Dean will be checking in on me.” Mule frowns, thinking of how to deal with that

“Write a note that you went for a walk or something. You’re not under house arrest.” Helel points out.

“Right. So I don’t even have to leave a note, honestly. He’s not my parole officer, I don’t have to report to him.”

“He’ll worry if he finds you gone.” Helel’s gentle reminder just pisses Mule off even more.

“Look, he’s going to be an ass even if I do leave a note. There’s going to be a fight and no stupid note is going to change that. So forgive me if I don’t feel inclined to be extra considerate. And a note won’t keep him from worrying either. He’ll never be happy until he has complete control over my every move, so let’s just go.” Mule turns the tv off.

“This may be difficult for you.” Helel warns him. “I’m not sure what you hunger for the most, but whatever it is, it’ll get harder the closer we get to him. Just remember, i’ll be there with you and no matter what you can bear it. We can bear it. Just leave me in control and I’ll get us through this.”  
“I will.” Mule promises, and lets him in front to take control of his body. In truth he’s not sure what he hungers for the most , either, heroin or Bree. When they hear the spare car their mother borrowed from the garage leave the driveway, Helel takes off.

 

“This wasn’t here a thousand years ago.” Helel starts as they walk the streets looking for something anything to give them a clue as to where famine could be.

“Nothing built in this country was here a thousand years ago.” Mule’s irritated interruption can’t help but annoy Helel.

“You’re not interested in learning what was?”

“No not really. I just want to get this over with.”

“We’ll be fine, Samuel.” Helel says soothingly. “Everything will be fine. If you don’t 

want to talk about history would you like to hear a story about how Michael made the moon?” Mule wants to point out that it’s still history and not a story, but he’s actually kind of curious. And after all, Helel obviously needs to be talking about something.

“Sure, why not?” Mule sighs. 

“When we were young the world was new, and there was just the four of us. We used to play games with each other in space among the planets. One of our favorite games was like a cross between tag and dodge ball but our own bodies were the balls and we’d just slam into each other. The person slammed into became the next one to be it and try to slam into someone else. Gabrielle was the fastest, though the most easily distracted. You had to catch her unawares or you wouldn’t catch her at all. Raphael could, because he was slightly faster for a limited period, like a sprint but he couldn’t maintain his speed so he had to get close to her. I was never able to get him, but sometimes Gabrielle would let me get her and Michael and I were almost equal in speed so sometimes I could get her. Since Michael was the strongest she’d have to take it easy on the younger two so she didn’t hurt them. She usually liked to go after me because she didn’t have to hold back and could slam into me as hard as she could.

“So she was chasing me, catching up and I was nearing where Raphael was. He was hanging close by as usual to see me get knocked in another solar system by Michael like the brat he was. So I let Michael catch up to me and made a quick turn in front of Raphael then immediately before Michael could hit me I darted up. Neither she nor Raphael could move in time to avoid the collision. Michael slammed into Raphael so hard he went flying like a rocket right towards earth then bam! He hit so hard that he broke off a giant chunk of it that got caught spinning in it’s orbit.

“Michael started freaking out because she thought she’d killed Raphael. Gabrielle attacked Michael yelling and screaming at her while I just stayed where I was, terrified of what Dad would say because we just broke the earth. I didn’t know what he’d so but I was sure he’d be angry. I thought about trying to hide but I just started trying to push back the broken peice to the hole it came from.

“That’s when Dad showed up and stopped me. He then went and took the curled up ball that was Raphael from the hysterical Michael and just held him to his chest, gently stroking his feathers. He gave us a lecture on being careful and taking care of your younger siblings and paying attention to your surroundings, that I knew was mostly directed at me. But he said not to worry about the damage to the earth because he had planned on using a meteor to do the same thing, so everything was fine. So that’s how Michael made the moon.”

Mule just smiles to himself. That story was really less how Michael created the moon, than how Helel made the moon. He can’t help but feel sorry for Raphael. Growing up with an amazing big brother who didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Really it sounds like Helel is both a wonderful loving caring brother and a complete and utter nightmare of one. 

Michael sounds like a fairly wonderful older sibling in all respects. When he hears Helel talking about her, Mule can’t help but wish that Dean was more like her. He wants to be the Helel to Dean’s Michael, but in truth he’s probably the Raphael to Dean’s Helel.  It doesn’t matter. As soon as he’s done with probation he’ll be leaving and his life will be free of his brother’s all encompassing shadow. Samuel ‘Mule’ Winchester will be able to step into the light once more.

But why should he be the one to leave? Why should he be forced out of his life? It’s Dean that should go. It’s dean who should lose his life, his mother, the love of his life, his job, his looks. Why should Mule be the one to suffer all this torment? And all this pain before he goes to hell. While Dean with his perfect self, his perfect wife, his perfect life and soon to be perfect children, will go straight to heaven and continue his bliss for all eternity. What more can the world possibly give to him? Does he even appreciate it? He should have it all taken away from him and learn what it is to suffer. All of it, his mother, his job, his children, his wife, his life, maybe literally as well as figuratively.

Why not? If he loses his life he’ll lose it all at once. If he dies slowly he’ll know it. And why not? Mule’s going to hell anyway.

Mule shoves himself forwards as the horror of his own thoughts strike him. He needs to breathe real air, feel the touch of real things. He places his hands on the damp ally wall and takes a breath. The air, the smells, the sounds, all unpleasant and distracting, fill him with a sense of relief. That isn’t him. He doesn’t want his brother to die. He doesn’t want to kill him. He just wants to be free of him, that’s all. That’s ALL!

“What’s wrong?” Helel gently asks him.

“I…. I started wanting something beyond reason, reality or morality. And I… it wasn’t me, but it was, but it really wasn’t. It’s not me. That’s not me.” Mule rests his head against the wall. A more familiar almost comforting desire is filling him. Now that, that’s him.

“Tell me.” Helel urges.

“I wanted Dean to die. Not just to die, I wanted to kill him. Slowly painfully so he would be able to realize he was about to lose everything before he died. So he’d know what real suffering is. But I don’t want that. I don’t. I just want him out of my life.”

“I know. You wouldn’t have called for me when he was in the hospital if you truly in your heart of hearts, wanted him to die. I didn’t know that famine could reach inside of me and wharp your hunger for freedom.” Helel’s voice is both soothing and apologetic, and something he can focus on besides the yearning reminding him of what else can free him, even if only temporarily.  “Are you feeling what I was starting to feel? It was very strange, I wanted something, but I have no idea what it is I want.”

“Heroin. My body is craving heroin.” Mule takes a shaky breath. “I can handle this 

for a little while. I can’t go back into myself again and start thinking those thoughts again. I can’t.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll put you to sleep with good dreams and you can rest. What I was feeling was a little annoying, but easy to handle for me. I told you, I’ll take care of this.

“Okay.” Mule nods. “Okay. But if it gets too hard to bear. Wake me and let me know.”

“All this means is that we’re close to him. It’ll be over soon.”Helel reassures him and gently pulls Mule back sending him into a peaceful slumber and pleasant dreams.

He dreams of his brother teaching him how to whistle one summer on the way to the Roadhouse. Dean letting him sleep in his bed when he got scared. How safe he felt when his big brother held him close and promised he wouldn’t let anything get him. He dreams of Dean pushing him on the swings, higher and higher, closer and closer to flipping over the top of the swings until their mother noticed and yelled at them. He dreams of when he got stuck up a tree and started crying because he thought something grabbed him. Dean came up to get him and told him it was just his pocket stuck on a branch and helped him climb down again.

He dreams of Dean pushing him across the floor in the milk crate. They both get in trouble for scratching the hardwood floors. When they started digging a hole to china and he got stuck at the bottom. Dean climbed down into it with him and lifted his brother up so he could get out, only to find himself stuck now. So Mule ran inside and called his mother who told him to start filling in the hole. He started crying saying he didn’t want to bury Dean alive. She just laughed and explained that he should put the dirt back in a little at a time so Dean could stomp it flat until the bottom got high enough for him to get out. And that she’d better see that hole filled in when she got home.  When Dean got out, he told Sam to go inside and take a bath and he’d fill it back in. They never got left without a babysitter again no matter how hard they begged for the next four years until Dean was thirteen.

He dreams of his brother teaching him to ride a bike. Dean had said that their dad was teaching him so he’d teach Sam seeing as he was the man of the house now. When Mule wanted to ride his bike to school , but his mother said he wasn’t old enough to go alone, Dean said he’d ride to school with him and ride back with him after school. And did, every single day until high school.

Mule dreams of couch forts, of camping in the backyard, of Dean covering his eyes when a part too scary for him came up in a movie. Dean coming to pick him up when he decided to sneak out and explore an abandoned house his friends said was haunted. It wasn’t but it was old and one of the stairs broke and he hurt his leg. He cried of embarrassment on the way home as Dean repeated his mother’s lecture about haunted houses, then stopped and rubbed the back of his neck saying ‘I’m just glad you’re okay, Sammy. Now don’t scare me like that again.’

He dreams of memories he’d somehow forgotten, that all got buried under the moments of hostility and rejection and jealousy and selfishness. Finally he dreams of the accident. It’s one he can’t remember having before.

Like he had told Dean, his brother was a silent drunk once he got past the beers, but silent in a way that kind of scared him. He didn’t give Sam the keys, though he asked and pointed out he did have his license and mom would kill him if she found out Dean had driven them home while this drunk. But Dean just got into the driver’s seat, tossed Sam some money and told him to get a cab. He was swaying slightly, but looked determined.

Mule felt scared for some reason he couldn’t place and couldn’t bring himself to leave Dean alone and just got into the passenger’s seat. Dean didn’t turn on any music, and Mule knew better than to touch the radio. Dean looked like he wasn’t even there, and drove about as well as you’d expect for a drunk person. Luckily no one was on the road.  Suddenly Dean straightened up a little and started driving faster and faster. And when they approached a sharp turn Dean didn’t slow down or even seem to think about turning the wheels. 

Mule called his name and in all of five seconds, his brother turned pale, looked over at him as if he’d forgotten his brother was even in the car and violently turned the wheel away from the railing. The car spun and slid. Dean slammed on the breaks, but too late and ended up going off the road sideways, tumbling down the rocky embankment until they’re somehow twisted back to facing the front and are stopped by a tree, crumpling the front of the car.

Windows are shattered, the car caved in at several places and Dean won’t wake up. The only thing Mule can think of despite his pain is that this is going to ruin his brother’s life. He could lose everything, his license, wrestling, scholarships, respect, maybe even going to prison. So he forced himself to get up and get out of the car. He’s not sure how he managed to go around to the drivers side, but he did, the door was crunched but in a way that kept it from closing, not opening more. Mule tried to pull him out with only one arm, but Dean’s leg was stuck, so he pulled and pulled with everything he had until he heard a sort of pop and Dean came out. 

He carried his brother on his back, closer to the road and put him down closer to the passenger’s side. Only then did Mule call 911, lying down himself until the ambulance came and he summoned the strength to call his mother. He hoped beyond hope that Dean was too drunk to remember anything and he was. As he laid in the hospital bed, happy and relieved there’s a part of him that’s not part of the dream nagging at him. Knowledge that Mule had no way of knowing then. Dean hadn’t realized he was there. Dean had just been raped and waiting on an aids test. Dean was trying to commit suicide and only attempted to stop when he realized his brother was in the car with him. He’d been trying to kill himself and he didn’t even remember.

That alone is almost enough to wake Mule from a dream that had become a nightmare, but A cry of desperation reaches through the darkness pulling forwards to be beside Helel. He can see what the angel is doing, kneeling on the floor, his hands trembling, sweat dripping off his forehead. He can’t even seem to move. He’s restraining himself. It’s not until Mule notices an already prepared syringe, a bag of powder and some pills on the floor at the top of his vision that he understands.

“Helel?” He calls to the angel softly.

“I don’t understand,” Helel whispers hoarsely. “I want it so badly. I don’t even know why.”

“Because I want it.” Mule feels his heart sink. “My body wants it.”

“I’ve never felt things like this in other vessels when I faced him. Nothing ever got through them. I never felt…  I never yearned for anything like I do for this. I don’t understand. I don’t know what to do. I can’t bear it much longer. How did you?  
“I couldn’t.” Mule feels his heart drop. 

“You could, you did. You resisted and you’ve been resisting for months. I just… I just want the pain to go away.” This admission makes Mule realize how much his angel is suffering and has been suffering. The pain of guilt, solitude, worry, fear, desperation all building up without relief for two thousand years and now his body is telling him that the answer is standing before him. Mule can see his hand trembling as Helel slowly reaches out for it, then turns his hand into a fist. “I just have to stop it. That’s all I… That’s all I want… I want it so badly.” the fist starts to loosen.

“More than you want to save Michael?!” Mule shouts as loudly as he can. The hand stops where it is. “Because if you do this you can’t save him, you won’t. You’ll do nothing but keep chasing after it’s empty promises over and over again. You have too choose, Helel. This or Michael”

“I…”

“HEROIN OR MICHAEL!”

“Michael…”

“That’s what you want, Helel, more than anything in the world. You want to save Michael because she is everything to you. She’s alone and in pain and she needs you. There are no lengths to which you will not go to get her back. Nothing can stop you from saving her. NOTHING! Especially not that worthless piece of shit illusion at your fingertips. So what is it, Marine? Give into the lie or SAVE YOUR FUCKING SISTER!

“SAVING MICHAEL!” Helel slowly gets back to his feet. “Michael is more important than anything!” Mule briefly sees a shiny blade in his hand a lot like his mother’s and an old man sitting in a wheelchair before Helel shoves Mule back into the darkness.

When Mule finally manages to make his way back near the front, he can see Helel sitting on the floor, the blade held loosely in his right hand, a ring in his left.

“Helel? Are you alright?” He asks.

“I feel like such an ass.” Helel says quietly. “I never understood. I thought I did but I didn’t. I really didn’t. Maybe I still don’t.”

“It’s okay. You did really well. And you weren’t prepared for it, not even a little. You made it through. You didn’t use it. You got the ring. Everything’s okay now.” Mule tried to soothe him.

“Only because of you. I was going to do it. I didn’t even know what it was going to do, I was going to take it because every inch of my body was screaming for it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alone. I’ve just been so alone… and then there you were and you saved me. Thank God for you, Samuel.” Helel shakily gets to his feet. “How did you know what to say to me? How could you know me so well that you knew exactly what to say.”

“Because you asked me how I’ve been resisting and I remembered why I did, what first truly gave me the strength to truly stop. Love. Being desperate to become a better man, one worthy of the love I’d been given and the desire to make amends. My love for Bree.” Mule starts to laugh. “I guess the jokes on me there, huh?”

“No. This jokes on her.” He can feel Helel give a small smile. “Because your desire to get clean is what made you call for me. It let me find you and that’s what she’d been trying to prevent since long before you were even born.”


	25. Babies and Puppies Make Everything Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Mule have a nice brotherly conversation.  
> Mule gets a little passive-aggressive with his angel.

“What do you mean it’s what she’d been trying to prevent?” Mule asks as Helel puts Famine’s ring along with Death’s in a small pouch he hides under the bottom drawer of his dresser.

“She doesn’t want Michael to be let out. If only because that means the cage will be free for Michael to put her back in it. Not that I’d let that happen. Then there’s the fact that if Michael catches her, she’ll be beaten within an inch of her life. She’s probably terrified of what will happen to Raphael. We need to keep Bree alive because of the mark, but Raphael is expendable. He can be executed and I’m fairly sure she’ll feel the same way about him as I do once she gets out.”

“The last time I tried, she planted a fake ritual to summon Death that took place the same day and time as the real one. And it didn’t require human sacrifices. I wasn’t overly familiar with the language. True It doesn’t take me long to be able to learn any language I need to use, but this was an obscure pagan dialect that I’d never heard before. Mostly if a language is not used in prayer, I have no use for it. But it seemed genuine enough, but when I completed it and a horde of rainbow polka dotted snowshoe rabbits emerged from the cracks of the earth instead of Death I knew I’d been had.” The angel confesses, sounding more than a little irritated. “I should have known better but I wanted it to be true too badly. Beyond that I was over confident. I didn’t think she could ever really trick me, not when it was important.”

“That’s sounds like you.” Mule replies as sympathetically as he can, though the image of the rabbits makes a smile twitch on his face.

“It’s alright. It would have been a funny image if it hadn’t meant that Michael was definitely trapped in the torment of solitude for another thousand years.” Helel continues. “Anyway, while I was out completing the ritual, she snuck into heaven’s library and set half of it on fire starting with the section detailing instructions for the cherubs on maintaining the vessel lines. Especially the one detailing Michael’s vessel and mine.” Helel sighs. “My poor little librarian was devastated.

“Fortunately the cherubs knew automatically what to do each generation at a time as needed but they didn’t know which were ours or were going to be ours. Or when you were going to be. But I recognized you somehow when you called to me. As soon as I heard your voice, I knew you were mine.”

“That’s almost sweet in a creepy stalker kind of way.” Mule comments.

“Shut up, Mule.”

“Sam?” They hear and look to the bedroom door. Helel lets Mule come up front to deal with his family.

“Yeah?” Mule walks over to it.

“It annoys the hell out of me that your brother and mother can sneak up at me.” Helel grumbles.

“It’s Dean, your brother.”

“And here I was expecting Dean Martin.” Mule opens the door. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just, um… Jo’s going to be driving me around for a while and since mom said it’s okay for you go around by yourself, so…” Dean holds out his keys. “Since your bike’s out of commision.”

“Seriously?” Mule just stares at them.

“Yeah, I mean, Jo’s after me to take it easy since I bruised my ribs. She’s pretty much threatened to tie me to a hand truck and wheel me around like Hannibal Lecter. Exactly like Hannibal Lecter.”

“You bruised your ribs? Like, on top of the shotgun wounds?” Mule motions around his own chest. Dean winces and nods. “How….”

“I fell down the stairs.” He looks a bit embarrassed. “Well, up the stairs actually… Don’t  ask. Just bam chest first.”

“How the hell do you fall up the stairs?”

“Over waxed floors…” Dean explains.

“I… still don’t…”

“Yeah, I kind of don’t either.” Dean gives a slight laugh and covers his eyes with  his free hand.

“Well, thanks, I guess.” Mule takes the keys and looks at them a minute before  putting them in his pocket.

“Mind if I sit down?” Dean motions inside.

“Uh, sure.” Mule backs away from the door and pulls out a chair for him from his desk before sitting on his bad. They both just look at their hands for a second. “So what did you want to talk about? Or did you just need to sit down a little?”

“Both.” Dean grins and rubs the back of his neck. “I want to get more done 

around the house. I wasn’t expecting twins you know. Not that we were expecting a baby, not that I’m complaining. It’s just that Jo’s exhausted and sleeping all the time.  They’re really taking it out of her. I don’t want to wait until the last minute and twins often come early. Not too early I hope, but early.”

“Do you… would you like some help with the nursery?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“That would be fun.” Mule smiles. “You know I was so excited the first time when you told me Jo was pregnant. A niece or nephew I could take and spoil and get all hyper with candy and soda, teach them the song that has no end, then give ‘em right back to mommy and daddy. Plus I can buy them all the noisy toys with no off switch that kids love that will drive you crazy.”

“Jesus Christ, Sam.” Dean gives him a half scared half amused smile at this.

“Yeah, so you’d better be nice to me before I dig up an old furby, or tickle me  elmo.” 

“You bastard.”

“I’ll buy them little toy motorcycles and army men. Little cap guns.” Mule continues. “And of course a classic prank kit.”

“Only if I don’t buy them first. I’ll tell you what though. You tell my boys that I’m secretly iron man and I’ll tell them you’re captain america.”

“I’m not doing that, Dean. You’re the Sheriff, isn’t that cool enough for you?”

“Yeah, but not as cool as Iron Man.”

“Dean, if you think something is cool, your children will not.” Mule regretfully informs him.

“Sam, you listen to dad’s music all the time, and wore his clothes when you could fit. You were practically obsessed with him. You thought every picture and possession of his you could find was awesome.”

“If you’re alive, your children will not think it’s cool.” Mule corrects himself.  “ Now me, I’m the uncle. I get to be cool. I have tattoos, a motorcycle, plus I’ve been to exotic places hunting monsters for the Marines. I’ll probably still be hunting monsters.”

“I’m cool. I’ll be a cool dad.” Dean protests weakly. “I’m the sheriff, I legally carry a gun and put bad guys… um…” He just clears his throat and looks away for a minute.

“Dean,” Somehow Mule manages to ignore what Dean managed not to finish saying. “You’re going to be a dorky embarrassing parent who knows no shame when it comes to humiliating their children, just like mom.”

“Maybe. I can’t believe she took off those damn seat covers for you. You’re so spoiled.” Dean comments jealously. “God I hated that car. It actually doesn’t look so bad now. Like an actual normal, kind of cool car.”

“Yeah, well, that was because if I didn’t start all my homework she was going to replace them with Hello Kitty ones.” Mule darkly informs his brother.

“Oh my god, you poor thing.”

“And if it got bad enough that the teachers complained about it and dragged her in for another parent teacher conference about it, she’d give it a Hello Kitty or Sailor Moon paint job.”

“So, that’s what got you to do your homework. Did you know why she used them in the first place? Because you kept pooping on the seats and dumping food and mush and all that stuff that would ruin the seats. She said we were both just so messy that she got the dorkiest seat covers she could find and swore to herself that she wouldn’t take them off until after we were both out of the house.”

“So it actually was to torture us? I knew it.” Mule narrows her eyes.

“Yup.” Dean nods. “Alright. I’ve got to get back home. Call me when you have some free time and we’ll start getting stuff. And just so you know, I’m not allowed to do any heavy lifting.”

“I figured. I’ve got this. Thanks again for letting me use the car.” Mule holds up the keys again, as Dean stands up.

“Thanks for helping me out.” Dean gives an awkward wave and leaves the room.

“That was a very pleasant interaction.” Helel sounds smugly pleased. “Very brotherly.”

“You did that on purpose. Those dreams.” Mule accuses him.

“Those memories.” Helel corrects him. “C’mon you know you liked having that nice pleasant conversation with Dean. You want to be his little brother again.”

“No. I really don’t.” Mule goes to the floor and starts doing push ups. He’s fairly sure he’s not going to like the following conversation and might as well do something to pre-emptively redirect his irritation.

“Don’t you wish all of your conversations could go like that, though?” Helel softly wheedles.

“What do you care about my relationship with my brother?” Mule starts to feel a little irritated.

“I just think you deserve a sibling like Michael that’s all. What’s more I think Dean wants to be have that with you, too. Wouldn’t it be nice? He’s trying, you know. He confided in you. He’s reaching out to you and you know it.”

“He just needs someone to do the heavy lifting.” Mule explains.

“He could have just asked Allen, if that was all it was.” Helel points out.

“Allen?”

“His best friend?” Helel gives a sigh. “You don’t even pay attention to his life, do you? Or pay attention to what he’s trying to say. He even came out to you and you missed it completely!” Helel exclaims, clearly exasperated at his vessel’s stubborn ignorance.

“What? When did he do that?” Mule pauses trying to think.

“When he told you about his rape? About how one of the reasons he didn’t go to the police is because he’d been fooling around with someone earlier? Why would that have been an issue if it had been with a girl, Mule?” Helel chides him. The realization hit him like a sack of bricks.

“Dean… Dean’s gay? What the hell is he doing with Jo then? Is he… is he just using her?” Mule starts to feel a little angry about the idea.

“No, Samuel, I believe the term is bisexual. And he loves his wife. You say he doesn’t trust you but he handed you the ability to destroy his life just to let you know you weren’t alone and had someone you could talk to who’d understand.” Helel points out. “He keeps trying to reach out to you and you just keep smacking his hand away. He’s worried about you. He’s scared for you and he just keeps trying to save you no matter how far you go, or how little you think you need it”.

“All he does is make me feel like a piece of shit.” Mule sits up, giving up on push 

ups as it doesn’t seem to be working. He’ll just have to get through this. Once Helel starts talking there’s not stopping him.

“I know. He’s an absolute asshole who doesn’t know what he’s doing and just makes things twice as hard for you. Sometimes I want to punch him for the things he says to you. But that doesn’t make everything else untrue. And maybe if you payed attention more and accepted it in the loving spirit it’s meant when he tries so hard to be your brother, things would go better in general.”

“No, it wouldn’t. The second he thinks I’m slipping up he’ll just go right back to treating me like crap.”

“You don’t know that. But you do know it’s something worth trying for. It’s worth making those nice moments between you. Besides he deserves just a little better from you.” Helel’s tone is regretful but still pisses Mule the hell off.

“Excuse me?” The dark tone in his voice is promptly ignored.

“I know you love your brother. I know that you’d help him with anything. I know what you’d do for him, what you have done. But he doesn’t. Almost the only thing you show him is your resentment apathy and anger. For all appearances, it doesn’t even look like you care about him at all anymore. You talk about how he hurts you all the time, but you’ve been hurting him, too. You feel justified in it, so does he. Maybe one of you is, maybe both of you are, maybe neither of you are. But being justified in doing something doesn’t always mean it’s what you should be doing, or that it’s the right or best thing to do.

“Have you ever thought about him? And what he needs? He lost a father, too, you know. He worried about your mother, too, and you. Did you ever think he might have needed a brother? Someone who understands. Someone he could talk to and spend time with and not have to hide part of himself from? Your shared history, shared knowledge, shared family secrets. It all means something. And look at now. He’s recovering from serious injuries and has been this entire time we’ve been together and not once did you think about trying to help him with anything. Besides that he’d been putting you first over his own health, always making sure you got where you need to be. Not that you needed him to, but still …

“Have you ever thanked him for any of that? For anything he’d done for you? For the effort he’s been putting in trying to make sure you’re going to be alright? For putting his career on the line trying to help you with that plea agreement. For managing your finances while you were in prison. For making sure you had enough in your commissary to pay people off or buy protection from anyone you needed to so you could be safe.”

“To what?” This one gets Mule’s attention. 

“Did you even think of paying a lifer to protect you and fight your fights for you? Of buying friends and gaining influence? Five hundred dollars isn’t a lot but it would have gotten you something. And what about the good will he bought you when you broke the television. Did you ever thank him for that? Or his nonstop efforts to get you in protective custody? And don’t forget his gifts of appreciation to the guards for taking care of his little brother, to try and ensure you were kept on their good side. Did you ever thank him for any of that?” Despite or maybe because of the reasonableness in everything Helel’s saying it just makes Mule angrier and angrier.

“Why should I?! He’s the one who put me in prison in the first place!”

“No, Mule, YOU are the one who got yourself put in prison. You’re the one who chose to do heroin. You’re the one who decided to start in on cocaine and you’re the one who decided to be in that drug den the day it was raided. It was your brother who saved your life. Your brother who always carried Naloxone on drug raids and now has it on his person at all times. Your brother arrested and processed you and took responsibility for you to make sure everything went smoothly and you were treated with care and delicacy and respect. But all you seem to remember is feeling bad because of him when it used to be so much more and could be so much more than it is, even if all you did was start thinking about him. You are a wonderful man, Mule, but you are every bit as shitty a brother as he is.”

“Are you done?” Mule asks cooly after a few seconds of silence passes.

“Do you agree with me?”

“Maybe a little.” Mule tries to hide a laughing smile at the question.

“And are you going to try your best to be a little more thoughtful and appreciative of your big brother?”

“I can’t promise to try, but I’ll try to try.” Mule doesn’t have to see the completely unamused face the angel is making right now in his irritated silence. “I’m kidding. I’ll do my best.”

“Good. You don’t have to be such a smart ass about all of this.” Helel scolds him.

“Yes I do.” Mule goes back down to complete his push ups.

“Why must you constantly give me a hard time? I only want you to be happy, but you fight me tooth and nail every step of the way! Most people would give anything to receive my wisdom. But you! You question me constantly. CONSTANTLY!”

“What can I say? I’m a Winchester, blind faith and obedience isn’t our style. Well, except for Dean, I guess. Besides it’s good for you.” Mule grins, continuing the not so friendly teasing.

“And how exactly is your being a pain in the ass good for me?”

“Because you’re surrounded by nothing but yes-men who’ll defer to everything you say and worship you like a god. That’s dangerous because it makes you arrogant and blind to your own failings. You lose touch with reality. You need someone like me to keep you humble.”

“I am humble!” Helel’s indignance makes Mule want to laugh. “I am well aware of my own imperfections. Aside from that nobody worships me like a god. That would be blasphemy and the last thing I want. Just because they adore me for my beauty, intelligence, competency and kind and gentle manner, not to mention my benevolence, doesn’t mean I’m being worshipped.”

“Alright.” Mule lets a few things go to get straight to the point. “Name them.”

“Name what?” Helel demands curtly.

“Your faults.” There’s a long silence.

“I’m not as bright as I seem. Visually.” Helel corrects before Mule can comment. “My being the brightest angel in all of heaven is only because I reflect the brilliance of those around me, adding my own to it.

“I tend to be over confident, though my confidence is usually justified. It’s just one out of a thousand times that it’s not. And I’ve always been far too tolerant of Raphael. I should have just executed him instead of trying to bring him back to Michael. I also tend to intimidate lesser beings with my abundance of strengths and virtues.”

Mule just starts laughing much to Helel’s annoyance.

“Well, what would you say my faults are?”

“Arrogance, self absorption, deceitfulness, pride, vanity…”Mule starts with a speed that Helel finds more offensive than he’s found much of anything in a while.

“Vanity!” This one seems to bother him the most of all. “How exactly am I vain?”

“Your choice of vessels for one. They were all incredibly attractive. I’d wager that all your previous ones had been incredibly attractive as well.  And be honest, if I wasn’t your vessel you’d never have bothered to remove my scars.” Mule accuses.

“I might have.” Helel attempts quiet dignity but it falls a little flat.

“Plus you’re kind of a condescending know it all.”

“Samuel Henry Winchester, you are an ungrateful brat!” Helel snaps and draws back far away from Mule’s consciousness. Mule’s able to finish his morning exercises in silence.

 

“Do I really come off as arrogant and condescending?” Helel finally speaks to him  again when he gets off of work for lunch.

“Constantly. I find it alternatively cute and irritating. Because I know you’re really just an overwhelmed overworked bundle of insecurity just like me.”

“Oh, that’s not patronizing.” Helel responds dryly. Mule just shrugs. 

“It is what it is.” Mule parks the car. “But your imperfections are half the reason I like you. It makes you Helel.”

“Well, I guess if you weren’t a stubborn sarcastic pain in the ass, you wouldn’t be Mule.” Helel sighs. “And I like you too. I’m not vain though. It’s just that beauty makes things easier. It’s not as if I’m personally offended by plainness or ugliness.”

“Except for feet and genitals.” Mule reminds him with a grin.

“That is an aesthetic preference. I’m not self absorbed either. All I do is think about other people. My brothers, humanity, Michael, Gabrielle. My entire life revolves around having to do that. Forgive me if I seem a little ‘self absorbed’ to you but this is the first… no the only vacation I’ve ever had. And even then I have to spend it trying to take care of you and free Michael,”

“You count this as a vacation?” Mule can’t help raise his eyebrow at this.

“Compared to my usual schedule you bet your sweet ass I do.”

“Huh. Would you like to come up front and play with the animals after lunch?”

Mule offers.

“Yes.”

 


	26. The Destruction of Pestilence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More brotherly bonding  
> Expanding the search  
> Mule has to deal with Helel's brother issues

“You know.” Mule hands Dean a root beer as he sits down next to his brother’s  porch swing. “You can drink beer in front of me. I’m a heroin addict, not an alcoholic.” 

“Well, still, you’re not supposed to have it any way. Sometimes one addiction can replace another and alcohol lowers your inhibitions and makes it harder to resist if you start craving it again. Then you’re held hostage by two addictions. Besides, Jo’s not drinking either, just to make sure nothing she does can possibly hurt the babies. So I’m going without as a form of solidarity.” Dean shrugs and opens his bottle.

“How are you feeling? Your chest and ribs and everything.”

“It’s tolerable.”

“Are you and Jo eating okay?” Mule asks looking into his bottle. “It must be hard cooking.”

“I’ve had to take a break from that too. Besides Jo’s been craving nothing but steak lately. Steak and eggs. Steak and potatoes, steak and more steak. I’m trying to get her to eat healthier but her eyes threaten extreme violence if I even think about taking away her steak.” Dean sighs. “I’m so tired of steak. Thank god for Allen’s casseroles.”

“Maybe I can help out a little.” Mule rubs the back of his neck, though he knows  he can’t exactly cook himself. “I could get you some MRE’s or put together some fruit trays and stuff for easy healthy snacking?”

“I’d probably eat more of that than she will.” Dean confesses.

“Oh, well, sorry. You’re not allowed to eat until she gives birth, so I guess there’s nothing I can do.” Mule takes a drink. Dean just gives him a wry smile. “I’ll bring something over, even if I just order of the diet menu when I get chinese.” Mule leans back, “How are things maintenance wise? You need any help around the house? I mean, I don’t exactly have a lot to do with my free time, and I can only mow the lawn so much.” He gives a nonchalant shrug.

“What about working on the bike with mom?” Dean looks over at him.

“That can wait until I can figure out how to convince mom I just need it running, not enhanced. Jesus Christ, have you seen the monster she calls an engine that she has in the impala? I have no idea what that is but the amount of amatuer welding and duct tape in there frightens me.”

“Yeah, I looked at it once. I’m not even sure it can be called an engine even more. How did she burn the thing out?”

“I’d rather not tell you. That way you can maintain plausable deniability.” Mule informs him. Dean just chuckles. “Dean, I’m sorry I said that. Back there in the hospital…”

“It’s fine.” Dean just waves it off.

“No it’s not fine. You’re my brother and I know I don’t really… appreciate you as much as I should. You’re always looking out for me, even when I make it impossible. My life being better wasn’t actually because you weren’t around. That was just a coincidence. I just, I had a purpose, a place where I belonged, something with meaning that I believed in. And I was great at it. I had friends and colleagues and I was somebody not just Dean’s little brother. Honestly though it was probably because I hasn’t met her yet.”

“I’m not going to disagree with that last one. But she did save your life. I just… I should have paying better attention. I just let myself get all caught up in election stuff, and just completely neglected you. If I had to do it over again, I wouldn’t have run. I’d have been there for you and maybe things would have turned out differently. I let you down and I’m sorry.”

“No, Dean… my bad decisions were in no way your fault. I knew I was doing something wrong but I just didn’t care.” Mule corrects him.

“I know, but still, I could have done something and I didn’t. Sam, arresting you was one of the worst moments of my life. Not that it was any great shakes for you I know, but… I just… I wanted you to know that and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Only if you promise not to do it again.”

“Sure, if you promise not to break the law for anything not hunting related.”

“Even speeding?” Mule grins.

“Just don’t expect me to pay your ticket. I only do that for mom.” They both laugh  a little at this. “I’m glad you’re doing so well, Sam. I know it hasn’t been that long, but it must really be hard, what with your chronic pain and all.”

“Um, actually I don’t really hurt anymore.”

“Yeah?” Dean smiles straightening up.

“Yeah. All those fights in prison must have loosened me up or something. It’s like I was never injured. I’ve got to tell you it makes it a hell of a lot easier to stay clean. It still gets pretty bad sometimes but it’ll get easier I guess and if not, I have really good friends to help me through it.” Mule shrugs. “So, you don’t really have to worry about me quite so much as you think you do.” Dean just looks over at him, thinking.

“You can come to me, too, you know. All I want is to help you stay clean and get your life back on track and be the brilliant dorky kid brother I remember.”

“Dean, I’m about twelve years and over a hundred confirmed kills away from being a ‘dorky little kid’. I’m a marine, remember? Special Forces? One who made First Sergeant by age twenty six, which means I’m a damn good one.”

“Yeah, Sam.” Dean smiles proudly. “Yeah, you were.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way you’ll stop calling me Sam or Sammy and start calling me Mule.”

“Not with a straight face.” Dean goes back to his drink.

“Ha ha. As much as I’d like to stay, I’ve got to get home when it gets dark and get some things done.” Mule looks up. “I’ll stop by after work tomorrow.”

 

A feeling of intense frustration wakes Mule from his nap.

“This is impossible!” Helel exclaims. “There’s too much information most of it useless, at least half of it outright lies and all of it completely unhelpful!”

“It’s the internet.” Mule comes forwards. “Please tell me you didn’t access the dark web or the deep web.” He feels a little alarmed at the prospect. Helel’s silence worries him.

“There’s nothing about recent plagues or epidemics that follows any discernable patterns. And there’s just so much pornography.” Helel rests his head on the closed laptop. “There’s more pornography than there are people on this earth. There’s even people having sex with feet! Feet, Mule! And most of the ‘normal’ ones don’t even make any sense. Most of the positions they take are neither practical or could possibly be all that pleasurable. It’s like… performance art! Why would you people turn sex into performance art?”  
“You… you went through the entire internet in one night?” Mule winces. Helel just shakes his head.

“Of course not. That would be impossible. It’s an infinite cesspool of human depravity.” Helel closes his eyes. “My faith in humanity is crumbling as we speak.” Mule’s not sure if Helel’s being over dramatic or not. If he reached the deep web… “Do you think there could be any useful information on those dark or deep webs you mentioned?”

“NO! No. I know someone who might be able to help us. He can’t personally sort through the entire internet but he’s a genius and could easily come up with a decent search algorithm or something.

“I’ll take us to him.” Helel pushes himself up from the desk.

“Better if I just make a phone call.” Mule informs him.

“I’d delegate this to my librarian who’s brilliant at this kind of sorting and cataloguing of incalculable amount of content but I could never expose my precious baby brother to this filth. He is safe and protected in the library with his innocence firmly intact.” Helel covers his eyes.

“Let me upfront, I’ll call Ash and we can look at videos of adorable baby animals and babies the rest of the night.” Mule promises.

“I can live with that.”Helel sighs and lets Mule have control of his body again. After checking the time, Mule calls the roadhouse. There’s a breif conversation with Ellen, catching up on how things are going. Fine. How Dean’s doing. Apparently they hadn’t let her know about him taking a shotgun blast to the chest or about him falling up the stairs and bruising his ribs. Hopefully Jo will forgive him when her mother comes up to take care of them.

“Do you think I could talk to Ash?” Mule asks nonchalantly. “No, just something I’m working on for personal reasons. Thanks.”

“This human is supposed to be able to do something I can’t?”Helel grumbles.

“You can’t be good at everything, Helel…. Yeah, hi, Ash. I have a bit of a problem. I need to get a summary of certain illnesses and epidemics worldwide for the last…”

“Six months.” Helel tells him.

“The last six months… what kind of illnesses?”

“New particularly nasty strains, and odd re-emergences of diseases thought to be wiped out.”Helel informs Mule who relays the information.

“Yeah, world wide…. Even there.  Yeah I know, that’s why I need you.” Mule repeats. “I’ll cover your tab with Ellen…. Thanks a million, Ash. I’ll see you after I’m done with my parole.”

“And that’s it?” Helel makes a face.

“Yes. And now it’s puppy time.”Mule reopens the laptop. “Maybe we’ll watch some crocodile hunter, too.”

“I don’t want to watch the slaughter of animals, Mule.” Helel says cooly.

“No, trust me, you’ll love it.”

 

The day at the shelter seems to help perk Helel up incredibly. The angel is also very helpful at picking out the ripe fruit and vegetables as well as which ones he says have the greatest concentration of fructose and flavanoids. When there aren’t any he just speeds up the process at home. The cheeses Helel picks are expensive, as are the crackers, but it’s for his brother and Jo and his future nephews. Helel also picks out a dozen cuts of grass fed beef steaks, which he says are much healthier for Jo and the children. Some large shrimp as well as lobster meat to treat him and Dean. And of course some expensive irish butter from grass fed cows.

It’s actually another fairly nice afternoon with his brother. Allen comes over with some beer and a casserole from his wife. Much to Dean’s dismay he starts telling stories from the academy. Like when Dean sole the state flag from the top of the monument and replaced it with an advertisement for Spangles. He planted the state flag in the trible pad locked chest in the room of one guy who’d been particularly nasty to Allen.

The best part was when Dean came to the man’s defense saying that it was obviously planted because there’s no way Barkowski could climb up a flagpole. When Dean was questioned about why he thought the flag was retrieved by climbing up the flagpole, he just responded that he didn’t but with those stubby fingers it’s even more impossible that he was untying any knots.

The mystery was never solved even though they actually got the CSI trainees out there to collect evidence. The only evidence found at all was the flag in the triple locked trunk. Despite the defense of Dean and Allen and a few others actually convincing them that it was a frame job, Berkowski threw a fit accusing Dean of setting him up and quit the academy when he wasn’t taken seriously.

“Honestly.” Allen finished the story. “I’m just glad he’s on our side.”

“What can I say? I watched a lot of crime shows.” Dean grins at Mule who smiles 

back sharing a private joke between them. The Campbells had become very good at covering their tracks and not leaving evidence behind. Their mother passed it on to them. Each of them could probably murder a regular human being without leaving a trace. Something Mule had actually had to do several times before his unit became dedicated to ‘unknown combatants’. Not that he’ll ever share that with either Dean or his mother.

The meeting went well as well. In truth the entire week seems to pass peacefully and without issue. Finally an email arrives from Ash. It’s a world map with colored polka dots denoting illnesses. The lighter dots are the first months leading up to the darkest as the most recent. Most of it is dispersed in a reasonable expected manner.  Except for this trailing cluster starting sparsely in Siberia traveling down to the People’s Republic and ending in North Korea with a star and Pyongyang.

“So much for anonymity.” Mule rubs the back of his neck. They are never going to be able to blend in.

“That’s not an issue. We’ll just move through the veil until otherwise necessary.” Helel brushes off the concern.

Another article is sent about a mysterious fire in an ‘unoccupied warehouse’.  In  case they were looking for what he thinks they’re looking for, Ash had sent, since it seems someone already took care of it. Ash also said that Mary probably shouldn’t worry about it since there are plenty of hunters outside America. Helel and Mule agree that Ash figured out a bit more than he should have, so the angel makes a quick stop at the Roadhouse to erase Ash’s memory of the request. After, of course, he makes the man delete all traces of his work from his computer.

 

The warehouse is clearly not a warehouse but the entrance to an underground biological weapon laboratory, where everything that could have once been organic is nothing but ash, everything is damaged or destroyed, notes, computers, machines, and there are no signs of bodies aside from vaguely human sized mounds of ash on the floor. At least until they reach the room Helel translates as Infectious Disease. As soon as they enter, there’s a form of a body missing some fingers as a permanent shadow etched onto the concrete wall.

“Radiation.” Helel informs Mule and bends down to pick a few things out of the dust. Small mossy roundish green feathers of a kind Mule’s never seen before, not that he’s made a habit out of studying bird feathers. Helel gives a heavy sigh, and gathers more and more until there’s none left to find in the especially damaged room.

“What are they?”

“Raphael’s feathers.” Helel puts them in their pocket and takes them back home. “He tends to molt a little when he’s stressed. He’s getting better at this.” Hele sits on Mule’s bed, resting his face in his hands. A measure of hopelessness seems to fill the angel.  Mule doubts an overload of adorable cuteness can help with this time.

“Does he have the ring then?” Mule asks. Helel doesn’t respond. “Or what did  you say? That the rings are usually hidden?” 

“He’ll never give it to me or tell me where it is. He’ll never even meet with me or speak to me again.”

“I wouldn’t if I were him.” Mule says gently, “But maybe, like Azrael, he’ll talk to me.”

“No, we’ll just have to wage war on hell and torture it out of him.” Helel says coldly. Mule hesitates a moment as this isn’t exactly a side of his angel he seen very often so far, and it’s a little frightening. But it’s also not something he exactly wants to encourage.

“Or, we could not endanger your younger siblings lives and I could try talking to him first.” Mule suggests. 

“He’ll destroy you, Samuel, if only to deny me of my vessel.” Helel responds blankly.

“Is Michael really such a threat to your sister?” Mule asks gently.

“Yes and no. Neither of us has access to Hell so as long as she remains there she’ll be safe. But as I said, she doesn’t do well with confinement. And Michael knows better than to kill her. But keeping her safe is Raphael’s highest priority. Michael is the biggest threat to her healthy, safety, and what little sanity she has left. Well aside from your mother.” Helel gives an amused smile.

“Don’t joke. Mom’s a badass, and you know it. She’ll kill Gabrielle if she can.”

“That’s true.” Mule can hear the wheels beginning to turn as Helel considers this. Hopefully away from out right war between heaven and hell and the suggested war crimes. “Gabrielle has pushed her over the edge in that regard. I don’t think even knowledge of the mark would dissuade her. She wouldn’t believe it as anything more than manipulation.” Helel considers. “That makes her a bigger threat, right now, doesn’t it?” The angel starts to perk up considerably. “You rest. I think I have an idea. I just… have to flesh it out a little.

“It had better not involve any harm or consequence to my mother, my brother or their souls or loved ones.”

“Of course not! What do you think I am?”Helel sounds so offended despite the fact that he was just talking about sacrificing siblings in a war and torturing Raphael only minutes ago. But the angel’s indignance is enough to reassure Mule so he returns to the very back and lets himself sleep.

 


	27. Difficult Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam petitions Raphael  
> Mary is given an offer she can't refuse

Raphael debates whether or not to answer to the summons. It’s been a very long  time since he could be compelled to answer it. He’s fairly sure who wants to talk to him the most right now, but the person calling for him is not Lucifer and neither is Lucifer anywhere nearby. It could be a trick, given who the man is. Even if it isn’t, he’s still not sure if he wants to speak to the young man. But the truth is he can’t help but feel he owes him at least a conversation.

He does of course arrive on an angel trap which is quickly surrounded by holy fire. A sensible precaution. He has an angel in the wings to let him out if the need may be. But first to see what Samuel Winchester wants from him.

“I’m sorry I slept with your wife.” Is the surprising greeting Mule gives as Raphael looks him in the eye. “I didn’t know she was married.” Raphael gives an amused smile at this and waves it off.

“You are not accountable for anything my wife does or chooses to do. I know what she is and I hold no ill will against you or your mother. I’m only sorry you and your family are involved in this.”

“Not the least because of how badly Bree’s pissed off my mother.” Mule gives a somewhat sympathetic smile. Raphael gives a sigh and shakes his head like he’s just been told his dog’s pissed on the carpet.

“I assume you didn’t summon me here for small talk. What is it that you or should I say, Lucifer wants from me.” As if he didn’t know. It’s been a very long time since he’s been unable to see through his elder brother. Though not always in enough time to do something about it.

“The ring or it’s location. But we have an offer for you. A way to help neutralize 

the threat of my mother to Gabrielle.” Mule bends down to pick up a scroll from his feet and reaches it out over the ring of fire. Raphael takes and unrolls it.

It’s brilliant as expected from his brother. It also results in Lucifer getting everything he wants, again as expected from his brother. The final piece is a threat without which any message from Lucifer would not be complete. That if the deal is made and they do not follow through on their end, Lucifer will not only resurrect Mary, repeatedly if necessary but he will assign her a host of angels to lead into hell and retrieve her son herself. Not only will she have orders to eliminate everyone who stands in her way but Mary herself will be informed of Raphael’s betrayal. 

The pure habit and his eternal hatred of his elder brother inclines him to tear the scroll into pieces and send a message back telling Lucifer what to go do with himself in graphic detail. But as it is, far more often than Raphael cares for, his brother is right and the solution is one he can live with and maybe even feel good about and relieved. Besides Lucifer did not make any mention of what he would or wouldn’t do to get back his vessel’s soul if the deal was not made.

“If you can’t trust him, I understand.” Mule says gently. Raphael raises an eyebrow at the man.

“Do you?” He says coldly.

“Yes, I do. There’s no excuse for what he did to you. And he shows no sign of remorse, but it was wrong that he put you through that. As long as I’m with him I’ll do my best to try and keep him from hurting you again. Who knows, maybe his insistence that my brother and I improve our relationship means that a part of him regrets the state of yours.” Mule suggests. Raphael just laughs a fairly bitter but amused laugh at the suggestion.

“My brother.” Raphael shakes his head. “The reason he wants you and your  brother to mend your relationship is because he needs him.” 

“Needs him? Why would he need Dean? He’d have told me if he did.” Mule protests, fairly sure that his angel has already moved beyond trying to deceive him.

“Samuel Winchester. Don’t you know the story of how your mother got that blade?” Mule nods. “Didn’t you ever wonder why my wife was so desperate to stomp out the life in your mother’s womb when they fought? Why of the two of you, you were made to be Lucifer’s vessel and not your amazing, popular, handsome, law abiding, church going brother? Lucifer needs your brother to love and trust you because Dean is Michael’s vessel. The growing bond between the two of you is what he wants to use to ensure his cooperation.” Raphael informs him. “Lucifer may be the good brother, heavens shining star, but he can be as cold as ice, vicious, and will do whatever it takes to get what he wants. Don’t forget that. There is no one he cares for more than Michael besides himself and don’t think for a moment he won’t use you and everyone you care about to get her back.”

Mule just gives him a nod. He has a disappointed look in his eyes, but it doesn’t seem as if Raphael is telling him anything he didn’t already know. Raphael wonders briefly how someone can be aware of what Lucifer really is and still trust and have faith in him as this man clearly does, coming to speak with him alone. A testament to his brother’s charm and skills with manipulation most likely.

“This is worth trying, though.” Raphael holds up the scroll. “When the deal has been successfully made, I’ll let you know where it is. Tell nobody else that I helped you.  Nobody, understand?”

“Understood,” Mule sprays the flames with a small fire extinguisher and scribbles through the edge of the angel trap. 

“Thank you.” Raphael just disappears. Mule gets to work, cleaning things up.

 

“Hey, why the long face?” Dean asks as his brother joins him up in the nursery.

“It’s nothing.” Mule empties the box for the book shelf, and looks for the screws  set. “Just problems with a friend.”

“You have a ‘friend’?” Dean makes the air quotes.

“No, one of my sponsors. I don’t want to talk about it.” Mule starts arranging pieces. Dean helps him hold stuff in place while he screws things together and eventually the pretty white bookcase destined to be covered by half peeled stickers, crayon, and dirty fingerprints, is finished and securely attached to the wall. The storage bench for under the window follows.

“It’s really coming together, huh?” Dean looks proudly around the room. The soft blue curtains hang gently in the window, swaying in the breeze.  The equally soft green wallpaper has blue bears, ducks, bunnies and alphabet blocks on the upper half and clear white on the bottom beneath a row of actual alphabet blocks cut in half and placed side by side around the room is adorable, but Mule can see the bottom having the same fate as the furniture. The two cribs are placed end to end across the wall, each with attached changing tables. 

“Now all you have to do is fill these in with toys and baby clothes. And diapers of course, lots of diapers. Cloth or disposable.” Mule leans back on his hands, looking up at his brother.

“Disposable, all the way.” Dean waves the very mention of cloth diapers away. “If anyone else wants to change, clean, and wash cloth diapers, they can be my guest, but as for me. Uh-uh.”

“Just thought I’d ask.” Mule picks up the boxes. “I’ll toss these out. Do you need anything else tonight? I was thinking of turning in early.”

“No, thank you. But you sure you don’t want to talk or something?” Dean pats his little brother’s head. “I’m here if you need me.”

“I’m good. Thanks. Goodnight, Dean.” Mule gets to his feet.

“Good night, Sam.”

 

“Mule is everything alright?” Helel’s voice asks as soon as rejoins his vessel.

“Dean is Michael’s vessel, isn’t he? The other vessel you need to open the cage.” Mule repeats angrily. Helel’s silent for a minute as he crouches beside him.

“Yes.”

“That’s why you’ve been pushing me to make up with Dean, not because you care about our relationship but because you need him to be easier for you to use. Admit it.”

“I did it for both reasons, Samuel.” Helel says softly. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I wanted it to be real for you, for him. I wanted you to truly be brothers in all the best ways and not just to free Michael, but for long afterwards.”

“And how long did you plan to wait? Years? Because it’ll take that long for him to trust me again. And even then it might not be enough. You’d have better luck than I would. If you went to him without me, you could probably eventually convince him. Don’t even mention me if you want it to work. Hell, tell him you need him to convince me to help you and he’ll find you that much more credible.”

“I’m not going to lie to him, Samuel, and I won’t make you lie to him either.”

“Yes, well your best bet of this turning out well is to go to him and pretend I don’t even exist.” Mule gets up and heads to the shower.

“You should have a little more faith in your brother, Mule. Faith in his love for you.”

“No, you’re asking me to trust in his faith and trust in me. All that will happen is that I’ll end up losing everything we’ve started building between us. And he’ll take the immovable impossible stance of neither believing or trusting me or the entire situation. Especially when he finds out how we got death’s ring. He won’t see it as a grey issue, or as the best we could do with what we had. He’ll see it as murder, Helel. A massacre and technically he’d be right.”

“If that’s how you want to look at it.” Helel says a bit primly.

“I look at it as the best solution we could find to a major problem with an approaching deadline. I’ve dealt with situations like that. Dean hasn’t. He’s just a civilian. Maybe mom would understand. But not Dean.” Mule sighs. “I don’t know. I.. I need to think about this, and I need some space. If you could give me some time alone. At least until Raphael tells me how to get the last ring.”

“He… you don’t have it?” Helel’s tone reminds him of his mother when he’s about to be in serious trouble.

“I won’t get it until your plan actually works.”

“You were supposed to trade the plan for the ring, Mule!” Helel’s starting to sound angry. “What reason would he have for actually handing it or it’s location over to you if he already has what he wants!”

“The same reason he had for trying to help my mother when she was pregnant with Dean, hiding the both of them from Angelic detection. You want me to have faith in my brother, you should have a little faith in yours.” Mule points out.

“This is different!” Helel protests.

“Okay.”

“Well, while you’re here figuring out how to talk to your brother. I’ll have to try and figure out where Raphael hid the ring and when I can’t, make a battle plan for waging war on Hell!”

“I’ll let you know when he gives me the location.”

“Well, I won’t be holding my breath.”

“You don’t need to breath, Helel.”

“It’s an expression!”

 

Mary’s surprised to find herself in an endless void, standing on solid emptiness that forms into a gray floor.

“Hello, Mary.” A familiar young colored woman, Raphael, stands before her. Mary doesn’t say anything.  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve come to speak to you.”

“I’m not sure I care, right now. Unless you’re here to tell me how to get my son’s soul back from your wife, there’s no point in your staying here.” Mary says coldly.

“I understand your feelings. I’ve already explained myself to you. But yes, I’m here with a proposed truce between yourself and my wife with Samuel’s soul as your incentive.” She says this so simply as if Mary would trust either of them. With what that angel has already done to her little boy. And yet… if there’s a chance of getting his soul back…

“I’m listening.” Marry crosses her arms.

“In exchange for Gabrielle relinquishing her claim on Samuel’s soul, you will promise not to kill her.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“No, because once you have your son’s soul secured, there’s no reason for you to keep your word, his soul will remain hers until your death. Even if she does not follow through, upon his death I will personally bring his soul to Heaven where it belongs.”

“And why should I trust either of you?” Mary demands. 

“That’s the question I suppose. We know we can trust you. And we know very well the consequences of our failure to comply. But how to prove it to you is something I don’t know how to do.” Raphael gives a tired sigh. 

“It’s nothing personal, but I don’t trust her, not even a little.” Mary stands firm, but she feels tempted, nonetheless. If it could be true… 

“I don’t blame you, she’s not even remotely trustworthy, and you have little reason to trust me.” Raphael admits with a conceding tilt of the head. Mary just looks at her for a long while, remembering their previous interactions.

“There’s more to what’s going on than the nightingale punishing me for hurting her, isn’t there.” Mary steps closer to the angel.

“Yes, but if there wasn’t, it probably wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“Why did she go after Sam and not Dean? She tried to abort Dean when we met but now she’s left him alone completely and went after Sam instead.” Let Raphael give an answer to that. 

“She couldn’t find the two of you. I’m not sure how she found Sam or when exactly. Neither did I know what she was doing until she returned from her time with him. She’s very adept at hiding from me. But there’s something she doesn’t want to happen and your children are the only two who can help bring it about.

“Also, Samuel was vulnerable, physically, emotionally, psychologically, more so than you could possibly imagine. She used it and him and did everything she could to destroy him before heaven could find him.

“But she could have just let him die and that would be that.” Mary protests.

“If he had died, he’d have gone to heaven and they would have found him and resurrected him and he’d have learned his purpose. If he had died as he was supposed to that night she got his soul, heaven would have never even known he existed. Now they do and have a vested interest in him and his welfare. But they cannot force Gabriel to relinquish his soul and the most powerful among them cannot enter hell to retrieve it. 

“Possibly they might send the Host to retrieve his soul one day, but that would  result in the deaths of hundreds of angels on either side. I don’t want that. I’ve lost enough of my siblings. I can’t bear to lose any more. That’s why I would make sure this agreement is carried out. To prevent this from happening.” Raphael clenches her fists. Mary takes it all in, unsure of what to say or think about all of this.

“How did heaven find him then if they couldn’t before?” Mary asks one more  question. 

“I’m not sure. My best guess is that they found him through prayer. Most likely a prayer for help, directly to the one who could see him for what he truly is. I suppose I’ve given you less reason to agree to this, haven’t I? You could just rely on heaven to save him and kill a decent amount of fallen angels in the process.” Raphael looks away from her. “I suppose I don’t completely want you to agree. There’s a price I’m not sure I want to pay attached to this deal and its success. Please think about the offer. And simply send me a prayer with your answer.”

“I will.” Mary can promise that much at least, and everything vanishes into an opening of her eyes. The clock says four o’clock. She hasn’t woken so early in a while.

She gets to her feet and walks out of her room, over to Sam’s. He’s sound asleep, no nightmares, not since he came home from prison. She expected them to be worse, but if heaven is truly watching out for him…. If it’s true that heaven has an interest in him, that they need him. Maybe they will save him after he died, but maybe they won’t be able to. They couldn’t find him and save him from her before this complication. Maybe they don’t even really care about his soul so long as he does what they need.

Why should she put her trust in heaven anyway? They’ve never done anything to help humanity that she’s heard of. Not for thousands of years. But who knows. Maybe they’re helping Sam now. Maybe there are angels looking out for him now, helping bring about all these wonderful changes. She never thought her little Sam-a-lam would ever start to come back, not after prison or drugs or even the war.

This deal, it’s worth taking a chance on. He’s worth taking the chance. And if she can add something to it, a way to see that she’s keeping her end of the bargain, an agreement never to harm her or her children again as long as they live. She’ll at least get something out of it even if they do betray her in the end. Though she suspects that Raphael will live up to their end of the bargain, no matter what the nightingale wants.

Mary bends over to give her son a kiss on the forehead, and goes back to her room.


	28. Friends and Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mule starts to have hope for his brother.  
> Much to Mule's delight, Helel sends someone else in his place to talk to Mule in his dreams.

As much as he tries to deny it, Mule feels fairly miserable. Not just because Helel kept deceiving him after promising to be completely honest with him, but because the angel isn’t there talking his head off.  Besides which the angel expects the impossible out of him. What’s even worse is the feeling Helel was right not to tell him. Before it was a mutual attempt at improving their relationship, but now all Mule can think about is needing Dean’s trust and cooperation and how his brother would react if he told him everything.

He can’t bring himself to be around Dean or talk to him right now, because of how uncomfortable the situation makes him. Even the animals at work don’t seem to lift his mood for more than a minute. It’s hard to fall asleep, and hard to wake up. He just feels so empty. After a few days he doesn’t want to think about it, and just starts going through the motions. Even when a note is left for him at work from Raphael, telling him where the ring is, it doesn’t perk him up. He just let’s Helel know that Raphael came through and that he can take care of it himself, but no, he’s not ready for Helel to come back yet. He misses the angel but he’s still upset.

Mule walks through the graveyard, sack and shovel in hand. It feels strange walking alone in the night air. He doesn’t really need anyone to show him the way. He’s gone so many times he doesn’t even have to pay attention, his feet just take him to his father’s grave automatically. He doesn’t even want to think about what his father would have had to say about all of this. How disappointed he’d be. So he just turns away and focuses on what he’s here for.

It’s even stranger looking at his own headstone standing on his own grave, a little surreal. The death that should have been. It’s definitely not a place Helel would have considered. Truthfully Mule’s not sure Helel understands his little brother as much as he thinks he does.

The shoveling is hard work, but refreshing at the same time. He could have rented machinery, but he didn’t want to disturb anybody nearby. Plus he didn’t want to spend the money or have anyone ask what he’s doing. Mostly because he’s not entirely sure how to explain exhuming his own grave at midnight. He’s not exactly sure how he’d explain exhuming his own grave in the daylight, either.

It takes a little bit, but he finally reaches his coffin. For a moment he wonders if there’s actually a dead body in there. But that’s obviously ridiculous. He opens the lid and smells nothing but plastic and a weird new coffin smell.

It’s filled with letters and plastic flowers. Looks like Williams finally returned his canteen. Well, he’s not going to sort through all this now. Mule reaches up for the bag and starts filling it with letters and everything but the flowers. There’s no loose ring at the bottom so it must be in one of the envelopes. There are a couple heavy ones and one that feels like dog tags.

He can’t help but stop and open that one. They’re Aaron’s dog tags. And a note from his parents stating that Aaron wanted Mule to have his dog tags in case he died. In case Mule died as well, which Aaron assumed he would if he didn’t have Aaron covering his ass, then he asked that it be buried with him. Mule folds the letter and puts it in his pocket before slipping the dog tags around his neck, next to his father’s.

A light shines down at him and the now-closed coffin.

“What the hell are you doing?” He looks up to see his brother standing above him.

“Digging to China.”

“Please tell me this is a salt and burn.” Dean sighs.

“Not exactly,” Sam covers his eyes, “It’s okay. I have permission.”

“Sam, you can’t just.. Who did you get permission from?”

“The caretaker and if you’ll flash your light that way.” Mule points to the headstone. The flashlight follows and shines on the name Samuel Henry Winchester.

“Jesus Christ.” Dean steps back, momentarily startled. “I forgot about this. So why are you digging up your own grave at midnight with a shovel and a bag?”

“It felt kind of appropriate. Plus I need the exercise.” Mule shrugs.

“That doesn’t even begin to answer my question. Why are you even doing this?”

“Because there’s something important to me in here. And I don’t feel like rifling through all this at the bottom of my grave by flashlight. I’m not breaking any laws, oddly enough, so do you mind giving me a little privacy so I can rebury my coffin?” Mule tosses the filled bag up and pulls himself up out of the grave. “Why are you here, by the way?”

“I got called at one am asking if I knew my car was parked in the cemetery after hours. I told him to let me take care of it, and came out to see if you were okay. I figured you were sitting at Dad’s grave like you used to do back in your goth phase.” Dean holds the flashlight allowing his brother to see the hole as he shovels the dirt back in.

“I did not have a goth phase.”

“You wore black all the time, Sam. You read Edgar Allen Poe and drank coffee all night at the diner when mom was away.” Dean reminds him. “This on top of spending a lot of your free time on the weekends in the cemetery.”

“I did not wear black all the time!”

“You had black jeans, Sam. And six black t-shirts.”

“They were band t-shirts!”

“Whatever makes you feel better.”

“What’s that? Is Mr. Prom Queen giving me shit about what I wore in high school?” Mule keeps filling it in. Dean gives a chuckle and moves out of the way when his brother gets to the other side.

“That looks like a hell of a lot of work. I can’t believe mom and Jo do this on a regular basis.”

“You’re just out of shape.” Mule pokes at his brothers less than cut abs with the handle of the shovel.

“Hey, I go to the gym.” Deah protests. “Three times a week.”

“You’re complaining about holding a flashlight. However often you go, it’s not enough.”

“I’m not complaining. I don’t have to be doing this you know. I’m being nice.”

“Mmhmm. You know I don’t think Mom does this all that much. She’s kind of like the Supernatural Swat Team at this point. They don’t really get called to issue many parking ticket, you know?”

“That’s good. The last thing she needs is to hurt her back out on a hunt.” Dean frowns trying not to think about it too hard.

“I wouldn’t worry. Mom’s the healthiest fifty nine year old woman on the planet.” Mule smiles. She’s literally the healthiest thanks to Helel with the bone and muscle strength of a twenty five year old. Not that he can tell Dean.

“Sixty year old.” Dean corrects him.

“No, fif.. Fuck, did I miss mom’s birthday?” Mule looks at him in horror.

“Not yet. You have all day today to get her a present. You have enough money, right?”

“Yeah, are you baking a cake or should I get one from the store?”

“I have one pre-ordered from an actual bakery.” Dean informs him.

“Okay, are you cooking too? Do you need some help? Or are we taking Mom out?”

“I’m still not sure, to be honest. But I think we’ll be taking her out. Maybe a steak house or a ribs place. I don’t think I’ll be up to cooking tomorrow even if you clean.” Dean confesses.

“Alright. I’m paying half and don’t give me any big brother crap about paying for everything, either.”

“Hey, that’s fine with me.” Dean kicks a few lumps of dirt onto the pile as Mule pats it down with his shovel. “You okay to drive home? I don’t want you falling asleep at the wheel or anything.”

“I’ll be fine. You?”

“I’m good. Today’s my last day of sleeping in. I’m going back to work tomorrow. Finally. It’s been driving me crazy being stuck at home.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Mule asks again, though Dean probably wouldn’t admit it if he wasn’t.

“Right as rain. At least enough for desk duty. I won’t be in the field for a few more weeks except for the usual house calls.” Dean confesses. “Not that there are a whole lot.”

“The usual house calls?”

“The elderly or mentally ill otherwise known as eccentrics if they have money. After the third 911 call I usually give them my work number to free up the system, and schedule them in. Usually it’s just someone lonely or off their meds who needs to be talked down. But sometimes there’s a legitimate problem, human or supernatural. When Jo’s away, I sometimes spend the night to check it out for myself. Not that she’ll be away much for a while.” Mule can’t help but smile at the sappy grin his brother’s making at the thought of months of having his wife home with him and the twins, once they’re born.

“Hey,” Mule calls to him as he puts the bag and shovel in the trunk. “Thanks for hearing me out about this.”

“Of course.” Dean reaches up to ruffle Mule’s hair, as little as there is of it. “You’re my brother. I’m going to at least give you the benefit of the doubt, when I can.” He heads back to his car. “I’ll see you tonight. I’ll let you know when we’re leaving for dinner. But try to be home around five or something.”

“Alright. I’ll see you tonight.” Mule waits for his brother to back out before he does and heads home. He can’t help but feel a little glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he can talk to his brother and he might believe him, at least enough to try and look up Helel on his own before freaking out and bringing their mother into it. Maybe he’ll actually listen.

 

It doesn’t take too long for him to find the ring and place it with the others, though he does need a better hiding place before he tells his brother everything. He sets his alarm and lays down for a few hours sleep. When he finds himself on a long white beach with crystal blue waters, laying on a beach chair in his swim trunks he’s both pleased and surprised. Especially when instead of Helel beside him, it’s Aaron.

“Hey.” Mule smiles and takes a beer from the cooler between them and hands one to his friend. Aaron promptly shakes it up and sprays him with it when he opens the bottle. “The hell!”

“You lucky son of a bitch! How the hell did you survive?” Though there’s no reproach in his words only pure joy.

“The devil decided she didn’t want me going to heaven so she saved me, seduced me heart mind and eventually soul. I sold it to her for heroin.” He informs his friend with the bluntness they’re used to, though he can feel his heart sink in his chest as he does so.

“Graduated from painkillers?” Aaron says sympathetically.

“Yeah, she made sure I survived, only scarred and crippled and in constant pain. I just needed more and more and the doctor eventually decided to wean me off it. I tried just buying more but it was really expensive and driving me crazy because I just couldn’t afford enough. Heroin was cheaper, and I was desperate. I just didn’t care about anything besides feeling better.”

“Yeah, it happens. I mean we lost everybody that day. I know you had to take that hard. You’re just that kind of guy. It wasn’t your fault, though. It really wasn’t. We were outnumbered and if it hadn’t been for that damned grenade you and me, we would have finished off every last one of those sons of bitches and be sitting on a real beach drinking real beers, looking for a few lovely ladies to go home with. I mean Heaven’s fine, but I miss you, the real you, not just memories of you. When you do actually die, you’ll have to come visit my heaven. I’d love you to see it. It’s not generally allowed, I don’t think, but you have an in with the top dog there, so maybe we can get all of the old crew together and reminisce or something.”

“I’ll make sure to ask at least, if I ever get to heaven. So let me guess. Helel sent you to talk some sense into me.” Mule grins. It seems like the sort of thing his angel would do.

“Nah, he was just worried about you and said you two were fighting, so he was going to send me down in his place. In a dream, which is fine, but he didn’t mention talking sense into you. I guess he knows you well enough to know that’s not going to happen. So what are you two fighting about?” The question makes Mule a little uncomfortable.

“We’re not so much fighting as we’re pissed with each other and need a little break from each other while we calm down so we don’t have an actual fight. Again.” Mule takes a sip then looks at the can in his hands. Even in his dreams he’s drinking root beer. “It’s kind of complicated.”

“When isn’t it?” Aaron sighs. “Alright, tell me. I have time.” Aaron takes a drink and lies back. So Mule does, omitting Helel’s confession and any other things that the angel might not want common knowledge. Aaron laughs his head off at the stories of Mule and Helel’s first meetings. “Man, that angel of yours is a piece of work. I never would have suspected that of Helel Ben Sahar of all angels. Though, I mean, I guess it makes sense. He’s practically worshipped. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t a little full of himself.”

“He is, and he isn’t. If you know what I mean. He’s in charge of all of heaven, and earth besides, to a point. He has limited resources more duties than it seems he can handle without breaking down at some point, like he did with me.”

“True. I’m honestly not surprised you caved when he started crying. If you have a weakness, tears are it.” Aaron gives a chuckle. Mule just ignores the comment.

“Anyway, you can’t confide in your subordinates, especially about fears and doubts. You have to maintain a strong front for your men. Keep up morale, maintain productivity.”

“True. It’s hard to get the whole truth from anyone higher up in the chain of command. Even you sometimes.” Aaron reminds his sergeant.

“That’s different. I knew all of you, and some things weren’t mine to tell. I know sometimes it’s asking a lot to just have to just have you take things on blind faith, but sometimes that’s what needs to be done. Not often, thank god. We were all a great team. I miss people having faith in me, trusting me.” Mule confesses. “Respecting me.”

“I’m pretty sure your angel does, for all of that. I’m not saying things weren’t as close to FUBAR as I’ve ever seen it, but you’re only human, Mule. And you’ve always had a big heart. It figures that’s how the bitch got you. Yeah, you say she seduced you, but she got you through the heart, not the willy. Hell, she’d probably have gotten me, too, with less of that Florence Nightingale shit, too.  Though, just out of curiosity, how was she in bed?”

“Are you seriously asking me what it was like making love to the devil?” Mule looks over at his friend who starts laughing again. “What?”

“Making love. That kind of says it all, and more than proves my point.”

“Yes, well, I’m being delicate, in case her brother’s listening.” Mule lies his ass off.

“Well it’d serve his eavesdropping ass right to hear it.” Aaron sits upright and turns to face him. “ You’ve gotta tell me, Mule. I told you about the twins at Machu Pichu, didn’t I?”

“Fine. It was… it was beyond imagination.” Mule confesses. "The things she did to me, it was like.. It felt like I was going to die. Like I wanted to die. I know that no other woman will ever be able to do that to me again, and to be honest, that’s kind of a relief. It was so wonderful it was horrible, practically torture. Like… you know how you love sugar as a kid? The sweeter the better, right? You think there’s no such thing as too sweet. You’d eat sugar out of the bag if they let you. Now think about the last time you had a glucose test.”

“Oh god.” Aaron makes a face even at the memory. So sweet it was unbearably disgusting and made him want to throw up, feeling like he just drank a cup of poison.

“Yeah, except take sugar and replace that with erotic pleasure. I don’t ever want to experience anything like that again.” He confesses.

“I find myself both intrigued and repulsed. You know, like that mixed drink in that place I forget.”

“I remember that you went from ‘this is the greatest drink ever’ to ‘please kill me’ in a hour flat. I had to stay up all night to make sure you didn’t suffocate because aside from vomiting, you kept crying ‘why did you let me do that?’ with the occassional ‘you don’t love me anymore’. And your nose was just stuffed and leaking so much it was useless. I was afraid the mere act of throwing up would suffocate you. They told you most people could barely handle one, but no... you had to chug three.”

“In my defense, it was delicious.” Aaron points accusingly at him. “And it was a mixed drink! All sweet and fruity. It had a damn umbrella in it!”

“Yeah, it was made with mango puree and about five shots worth of six different hard liquors. You drank three in less than half an hour. You’re lucky you didn’t die! Hell, the fact you didn’t makes me think you may have had a serious drinking problem.”

“Well, I probably puked out the last two, plus it wasn’t like I was drinking on an empty stomach.”

“If only.” Mule wrinkles his nose at the memory. “Of course, then you probably would have died, alcoholic or not.”

“Okay, back to the problem at hand.” Aaron clears his throat. “You’re mad because he didn’t tell you everything up front and he’s mad because you didn’t follow orders. You’re also freaking out because this mission involves talking to your brother with whom you have many, many issues. Just like he was in regards to his brother with whom he has even more issues.” Aaron summed up.

“That sounds about right.” Mule sighs, and gets an empty beer can to the head. “The fuck, man!” He puts a hand to his head.

“Are you a fucking marine or aren’t you?!” Aaron half yells at him. “This is a rescue mission, one you accepted, and you’re bitching about talking to your brother?”

“He won’t listen.”

“Then you fucking make him listen! This is not about your personal feelings, Sergeant. This is about the job and you will suck it up and do what you fucking have to do! Just like you have done in every goddamn mission you have ever undertaken in your entire fucking career!”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand, Mule.” Aaron’s response is a little softer this time. “I do. You sucked as a civilian. Big time. You lost confidence after the last mission and broke from the loss, I get it. And you have to deal with your brother who makes you feel second rate, at best. But you’re not. You are one of the best and you will get this job done no matter what the cost because that’s who you are.” Aaron suddenly stands up. “Now let’s stop talking about this shit and build a goddamn fucking sand castle!” He thrusts a fist into the air.

“Oorah!” Mule does the same.

“Oorah!”


	29. Male Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helel gets jealous of Aaron  
> Dean comforts his brother   
> Helel and Dean help Mule purge his belongings of things reminding him of Bree.

“So, apparently we suck at sand castles.” Mule looks down at the lumps in front of them that resembles in no way a sand castle

“That’s because it’s a sherman tank.” Aaron corrects him, looking proudly at the mess that in no way resembles a tank either.

“It’s… it’s really not.”

“Drink enough beer and it will be.” Aaron bends over to take his from the sand.

“Yeah, well, even if you can get drunk, I’m stuck with root beer.” Mule sighs, picking his up as well.

“That god awful stuff?” Aaron makes a thoroughly disgusted face.

“I said root beer, not Dr. Pepper.” Mule takes a drink. Aaron just gasps with an offended hand to his chest, the other filled with a can has a finger pointed accusingly at his friend.”

“You mother fucking bastard! You take that back!”

“Dr. Pepper sucks ass and then spits it back out into a bottle of carbonated cat piss and then sells it as a beverage more vile than drinking the juice squeezed from the slop in a pig sty.”

“Oh, them’s fightin’ words.” Aaron tosses his can and pretends to roll up sleeves he doesn’t have and tries to barrel into Mule who just shoves him aside with one hand, finishing his root beer and tossing that bottle as well.

“You know you’re nev… oof.” Mule’s knocked into the sherman tank.

“Getting soft, Winchester.” Aaron tries to shove him face in the sand, only to get knocked into the ‘moat’ with a knee to the gut. Mule has to admit he’s not what he once was. He needs a decent sparring partner.

“Is there a problem?” The two look up from the sand to see Helel looking down at them. 

“No, no problem.” Aaron manages despite Mule pushing his head back by the chin.

“What are you doing?”

“Building a sand castle?” Mule grins, Aaron’s hand around his neck, and knee on his stomach, pinning him down.

“It’s a sherman tank goddamn it.”

“What part of building a sand structure, involves violence and shoving sand down each other’s swim trunks?” Helel demands, crossing his arms. 

“The part where we are manly men who can only express affection through harassment, verbal antagonism and physical violence. We are also only allowed to hug each other so long as we have hands clasped between us giving manly pats on the back so it’s not technically a hug.” Aaron replies. Helel gets an amused but smug smile at this, even when Mule gives him a look that clearly means not to say anything. “Okay, seriously, Mule, why is there two of you?”

“That’s Helel. I’m his vessel, so he prefers to appear as me, with longer hair. Also could you please try not to use the G-word? That’s his dad and he doesn’t really appreciate casual blasphemy.” Mule informs him. 

“Huh.” Aaron lets go of Mule and helps his friend up. “I like you better as one of the triplets from Beauty and the Beast. Startled the hell out of me when one of them started talking, though, you know more than the script can I do anything for you, monsieur? Or do you like zat, Monsieur.”

“The fuck?” Mule looks over at Aaron.

“Okay, so I kind of had a thing for them in fifth grade. So yes, they’re a small part of my heaven.” He confesses.

“Dude!”

“They fan me, massage my feet and feed me grapes, you nasty fuck. They’re cartoon character’s for g- christ’s sake.” He gives Mule a shove. Fortunately it doesn’t seem like Helel takes offense to that particular expression. “Any ways, I’ll, um, go wash the sand from my shorts while you two talk.” Aaron gives a wave and runs into the water.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you about your brother.” Helel looks away, arms still  crossed. “I should have.”

“No, you were actually right about that.” Mule reluctantly admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I do need to improve our relationship and it was kind of easier on me not knowing the mission depends on it. I’ve been in charge too so I do understand. It’s kind of a hard habit to break, even though we are partners. You can’t always be as straightforward with your men as you like.”

“True, but you’re right, we are partners not commander and subordinate. It’s been a while since I’ve had someone I could depend on and confide in like this. I shouldn’t always assume I know best. Like with your decision to trust in Raphael’s sense of honor.” It’s plain to see that this one was hardest to admit, especially since it involves Helel being wrong and Raphael doing the right thing.

“And guilt.” Mule adds. Helel raises an eyebrow at him. “You said he adored Michael and vice versa. What he did has got to be eating at him. Besides, if he didn’t want Michael to be freed, he’d have let Bree kill Dean in the womb.”

“That’s a very good point.” Helel admits. “I… may not be completely objective when it comes to my siblings. I’m not at my best and it’s been harder and harder to suppress my personal feelings. However, since you were right about the approach to take with Raphael, maybe give my advice in regards to your brother a little more consideration?” Helel of course can’t help but push, though Mule can admit to himself that he may have a point. Like Helel, he maybe a little too close to the situation to view it objectively.

“Maybe.”He reluctantly agrees, giving the angel a shrug. “But I won’t let you down, Helel. We’re going to rescue Michael no matter what I have to do. I promise.”

“Thank you.” Helel hugs him in a way that almost seems to Aaron like a dominance display, meant to remind him who Mule’s friend and partner is now. Especially as he’s looking straight at Aaron as he does so. He had figured the angel showed up because he was either jealous or concerned. Apparently Helel takes after his father, who is jealous god. He actually finds it kind of funny.

“That’s not very manly.” Mule teases. 

“I’m an angel,” Helel reminds him, though he does break away at the hint. “I’m just glad I didn’t have to beat the crap out of you this time.”

“Sure,” Mule can’t help but grin. “You want to come play with us a bit? Or do I have to wake up soon?” Mule nods to the ocean.

“No, dreams run on their own time schedule. We have plenty of time. Are you sure Aaron, won’t mind?”

“Not a bit. C’mon, we’ll splash about in the ocean a bit and then come back and try to make the sherman tank again.”

“That’s easy.” helel briefly vanishes then comes back and snaps the unkempt pile of sand into a perfect miniature replica of a sherman tank.

“Okay,” Aaron jogs back up to them. “That is awesome, but I kind of feel you’re missing the whole point of this.” he puts an arm on Helel’s shoulder. “Mule, go wash off while I have a little heart to heart with your boy.”

“This is kind of getting uncomfortable.” Mule admits, though Aarons not sure if he’s just referring to the sand in his suit or the situation in general.  But the man reluctantly leaves them alone.

“So, here’s the thing,” Aaron walks over to Helel and puts an arm around the angel’s shoulder, ignoring the less than friendly look the angel gives him at this. “Mule and I, we’ve been besties since basic and obviously, I can’t really have his back like I used to, what with being dead and all. You’re being pretty good to him so far, but I hope that once this thing is over, you’re not going to just up and abandon him. Because, he is really messed up, and he really needs someone to be there for him and have his back and probably will for a while.” Aaron examines the fingernails on his free hand.

“If you’re just using him… If you hurt him and betray the trust faith is friendship he’s giving you, you and I are going to have a fucking problem. Don’t think just because I’m a dead soul. I won’t find some way to fuck you up for screwing with my best friend like that.And I’m not the only marine who’ll feel the same way. Understood?”

“Completely.” Helel can’t help but smile a little at the threats.

“That said, if you can’t get his soul back before he dies, you have at least a dozen elite marines who would be more than glad to storm hell to get our sergeant back where he belongs. Don’t even worry about sending in the host at least not as anything but a diversion. Shit, half of us at least would love to train for that kind of mission just for the hell of it.”

“I might just take you up on that.” Helel considers. “And don’t worry. Mule and I, we’ll be partners til the world ends. I promise I’ll take care of him.”

“Good. I’m counting on you, angel. Don’t let me down.” Aaron gives Helel a fairly forceful slap on the back and heads back to the ocean. After a minute or two, Helel joins them.

 

It was hard thinking of a gift for his mother. Mule couldn’t think of anything she’d want or need that he’s allowed to buy her right now. It wasn’t until Helel suggested that Mule give her some of the angel’s tears that the issue was settled. He let  Helel type up a manual on their uses both basic and complex with spells that use them and the modern substitutions for long unavailable ingredients, as provided by Heaven’s librarian. 

It went over incredibly well. Especially since by only trading one in at the hunter’s market, she could walk away with half of everything they had there. Especially since they were

tears of an archangel and actually share with their own light. When he said not to ask, they didn’t. On Helel’s suggestion he waited to give her his gift until last so as not to have his mother feel let down when the other’s gave theirs. For once his present was the one to make his mother absolutely overjoyed.

Now he’s just in his room with a trash bag or two going through his belongings. Aaron had asked him if he’d done the ex-girlfriend purge yet. Where you get rid of photographs, gifts, letters, everything that you associate with them, preferably by burning them. It was actually embarrassing that Mule hadn’t even thought to do that yet. Granted Aaron pointed out that though she had fucked over and left him several years ago, he’s only been out of prison and back in his room for a three or four months. Then he teased him about moving back in with his mother.

It’s surprising how many of his belongings remind him or her. How most of his clothing does, the trinkets he bought her or that she insisted he buy for himself. The digital photo album is the worst. He can see himself getting better, happier, and more and more in love as the pictures go. Then he starts becoming thinner, and thinner, paler, more exhausted, all while she remained the same radiant beauty. 

The second worst is the seventh one in which she’s holding up the hand with the

engagement ring, gold with a diamond studded eternity sign, smiling that brilliant smile. Those golden eyes are half laughing a joke only she knew then, but he knows now. She’s resting her head on against Mule’s chest or as close as she can get to it, with her tiny self.  He can see himself with the same soft look of complete and utter adoration, that seems to even soften the edges of the scars present in each and every picture. 

The eighth and worst one of all, is taken the same day, a few seconds after with his head bent so she can kiss his cheek, her right hand on his right cheek, her lips tenderly kissing his scars. No matter what else, she always made him feel so very human and complete, as if the scars weren’t there at all. Now they aren’t but the scars she left inside him are so much worse, for all that they’re hidden from public view.

The painful truth is that he now knows she wasn’t smiling because she loved him, those laughing smiles were because the joke was on him, because she had him totally fooled. The affectionate kisses and tender hands on his scarred body were nothing but her appreciating her handiwork. What he once considered proof of her love for him, is now a reminder of the needless pain, crippling, and disfigurement she inflicted on him for no reason but to make him more vulnerable in his suffering. But he was happy just to have her in his arms, or at his side. 

Even knowing all this, he still can’t bring himself to erase them. Though, he puts it

in the bag anyways. He takes the scribbled notes she’d left him, and the love and lust filled letters she’d written him from Iraq that always ended up making him give himself the release his body was so desperate for. Her face and body always in the forefront of his mind. He almost starts to read them again, but remembering the explicit nature of the contents, he shoves them away.  Better for Helel not to see them, even accidentally. Though just the memory of them makes for an uncomfortable situation.

Ticket stubs, receipts, menus, the plastic lily placed on his grave that they’d taken from it. He had taken her to meet his father and ended up having hot, rough, desperately passionate sex on top of his own. It wasn’t making making love so much as it was a defiant protest against the concepts of god, death, and destiny. It was a thing of anger, violence, and rage and he was so sure he’d hurt her when they were done, but she was beyond thrilled with it. Maybe he would have if she was human. But the bite marks faded as he watched, and the only blood on her was dripping from his back as she had dug her nails into him deeply like vicious claws of a wild beast upon climax. He hadn’t even felt it until afterwards. He was horrified with himself and it took a while for her to coax him back into bed with her.

He ended up doing a lot of things with her that he never thought he would. All for the illusion of love, trust wrongly given and pleasure and pain which clouded his mind until nothing mattered but the need for more. More money, more drugs, more of her. He tears the keepsakes to shreds, tosses them into the trash bag, then slams his fist down on the photo album inside it, cracking the screen. For some reason Helel doesn’t heal his bleeding hand stuck with shards of the screen and he doesn’t try to comfort him when his angry cry of betrayal and heartbreak turns into tears with more of the same. 

It’s not until his brother is kneeling beside him, wrapping his arms around him, letting him cry into his shoulder, that he understands why. They’d heard the front door open a few minutes ago, so the angel knew some member of his family was here. But that doesn’t stop the pain. Every time he thinks about it, about her and their time together it’s like taking a scalpel to a a would that hasn’t begun to heal and digging into it deeper. This time it’s gone so deep his heart is bleeding out of his eyes and can’t be stopped. 

It shouldn’t be this hard. It shouldn’t hurt so much or keep hurting. It should all  just stay locked away, until it all heals over and won’t bother him anymore. He wishes he could just have his memories of her taken away, as if she never existed, but he can’t and knows he shouldn’t. Without those memories he would be vulnerable to her all over again.

Besides, what he really wants right now is to escape into a cloud of bliss and dreamless sleep letting it all drift away until morning. That’s not wrong is it? It’s not hurting anyone. He won’t go broke so long as he stays away from cocaine. Why can’t anyone see that? And even if it does, his soul is damned anyway. Why shouldn’t he grab at heaven while he still can.

“This.. is… it’s hard for me right now.” Is all Mule manages to say, but he doesn’t have to say anything more, his brother just seems to know what he’s talking about.

“It’s okay, Sam. I’ve got you. And I’m not letting you go until everything’s okay.” 

Dean comforts him, rubbing his little brother’s back. “You’re doing so well, you know that? Your boss can’t say enough good things about you. Everything you’re doing around the house, helping me out, driving me to work in the morning is nice and very much appreciated. You’re going to your meetings, your parole officer, your appointments, everything just like you’re supposed to do. You can do this, Sammy. You are doing it. We’ll get through this, I promise.”

When Mule starts to get a hold of his emotions, Dean goes to get the first aid kit to take care of his brother’s hand. It’s no longer bleeding but it will when the glass comes out. Sure enough, when Dean takes the tweezers to pull out the shards, the bleeding starts heavier than before. He suggests stopping at the hospital to get the rest, but Helel takes over and with the pretense of a gentle massage on the edge of his palm, pushes the rest of them forwards, peeking out of the skin. The blood starts to ebb a little quicker and when Dean tweezes out the rest and examines Sam’s hand, he’s assured that the hospital isn’t necessary. He just adds some neosporin and bandages the hand up.

“She really did a number on you.” Dean states gently.

“You have no idea.” Helel gives an unhappy sigh, and looks thoughtfully at Dean. “What made you stop by?”

“You haven’t exactly been yourself this week. I know Mom tends to work late and I figured you might not want to be alone. So I figured I’d invite you over for dinner, maybe a game of cards or something."

“Sure,” Helel answers before Mule can say no. “It’ll be good for me.”

“Helel, no, I need to get this over with. Just… get rid of everything in here except the dirty bag in the closet.” Mule begs.

“Just let me clear out the room first. I’m getting rid of everything that reminds me of Bree.” He informs the man next to him on the floor.

“The post break up purge, huh? Need some help?” Dean asks as Helel stands up and surveys the room. 

“Sure, to be honest, we’re going to have to get rid of just about everything I’ve gotten since I came home from Iraq.” Helel puts his hands on his hips.

“That’s fine.” Mule mumbles from inside.

“Including the clothing. We’ll get some more tomorrow.” He goes to the closet and starts taking everything off the hangers. Dean raises an eye at the ‘we’ part but just shrugs and decides to set aside time to go with his brother to the mall.

“Do NOT get rid of my band t-shirts!” Mule exclaims.

“Do those even fit you anymore?” Dean asks as Helel holds one of the old band shirts up before him.

“Yes!” Mule insists.

“I don’t know. I’ll try them on.” Helel takes off his shirt a squeezes into the t-shirt that ends up plastered to him like spray paint only going down as far as his belly button. Mule apparently grew a decent amount since he last wore this one. “Yep, fits perfectly.”  Helel flexes in front of the mirror, appreciating the care Mule’s taken of this body since he stopped using. He can’t wait to see what his vessel looks like once he’s back at peak fitness again. Dean just laughs his head off.

“Jesus Christ, fine. You can get rid of the t-shirts.” Mule grumbles. “Just take it off, will you?”

“Alright, everything goes.”Helel grabs all the clothes in a bundle, lifts them off the rod and shoves them in the trash bag.

“I’m going to need those hangers you know.” Mule informs him just as his brother speaks.

“You’re probably going those hangers, Sam.”

“No, they’re trash. They’ll be replaced with quality hangers that won’t stretch the shoulders so much. I’ll just wear these.” Helel takes out Mule’s uniform pants and under shirt. “Can you empty out the dresser?”

“All of it?” Dean grabs a trash bag and heads over to it.

“Just toss everything in the drawers.” Helel waves to it.

“I will need my socks and underwear, Helel.”

“Except the top drawer.” Helel corrects, “These shoes have to go, too.”

“What the hell is wrong with my shoes?” Mule exclaims.

“Aside from the army boots, they’re cheap pieces of shit so they’re joining the pile.” Helel bends down to pick them up.

“Really? The shoes too?” Dean raises and eyebrow.

“There’s more to taking pride in your appearance than a tucked shirt, hospital corners, a shower and a shave.”

“I guess you’d know.” Mule continues to grumble. He’s just ignored, as usual, but let’s Helel take charge and do what he likes. It doesn’t really matter. “I’m just going to rest, Helel. Have fun bonding with my brother.”


	30. A Leap of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mule and Helel act like an old married couple  
> Mule finally tells his brother

When Mule  finally come forwards again he feels incredibly refreshed and relaxed. Helel wordlessly moves aside to let him take the wheel. After a minute of stretching, he heads to the closet. When he opens it he sees a few dress shirts and slacks hanging up. His dress uniform had been placed on a very nice hanger with velvet strips on the top, zipped inside a protective plastic bag. Dress pants are hung up the way with a belt and tie draped over then, then the shirt and jacket hanging off an attached hanger. They look kind of nice, and not really like anything he’s seen at the local big and tall store. The shoes are fantastic. Premium leather with cushioned insoles. And of course since Helel doesn’t quite understand the concept of boundaries, there’s purple lingerie with silk shorts and a loose dress robe made of the same material. He can kind of see Helel lounging around in something like this. But not him. Though he has to admit the matching slippers look really comfortable. Is.. is that actual fur?

“Helel?” He quietly calls for his angel, starting to feel a little concerned.

“Yes, Mule?”

“How much did all of this cost me?” He asks warily.

“Nothing.” Is the glib reply.

“How did this cost me nothing?” Mule doesn’t want to accuse his angel of stealing them, but several of them still have the price tag on them.

“I raided an old buried pagan temple last night and sold some of the gold for several thousand dollars. I know you’re trying to save up.” Helel informs him.

“You raided a old pagan temple?” Mule almost can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Turn about is fair play.” Helel says cooly. “Dagan’s worshippers were a pain in the ass. They actually stole the ark of the covenant, among other things. Don’t even get me started on Babylonia. Every time Michael would slay their gods, they just got worshipped back into existence. Half the stuff I took was Dad’s to begin with.” Helel defends himself. “I also stopped by the junkyard and found a lot more compatible parts for your bike.”

“Helel?” Mule takes out the lingerie again. “You know we’re just partners, right? Friends, yeah, but this... You’ve kind of crossed some boundaries, here.”

“How so?” The angel genuinely asks, seeing nothing wrong with buying his vessel sexy lingerie. At least it’s not a thong.

“Well, buying me something like this?”

“It’s comfortable and cool and very high quality. It’s perfect for wearing in the summer heat when you’re getting ready for bed.” Helel explains. “You need to pamper yourself a little, Samuel.”

“Helel, this is ‘perfect’ for wearing on your honeymoon when you’re getting ready to things other than sleep in your bed. This isn’t… this is for seduction not comfort. It’s really kind of inappropriate to buy me something like that. What’s this suit for anyways? I have my dress uniform for special occasions.” Mule pulls one out with a spring green undershirt and a hunter green tie, belt and kerchief in the jacket pocket.

“That’s for when we go to church with your brother on Sunday.” Helel informs him.

“I am not going to church. I may be cool with you, but I feel in no way inclined to worship anything.” Mule reminds him a little testily. “I thought you were aware of my feelings on the subject.”

“Well, I’ve already told him we’d go and he’ll be really disappointed if we don’t.” Helel chides him. “You already slept through several dinners, movies and a card game and you know his faith is important to him.”

“Well, he knows how I feel about the subject.” Mule puts the suit back and goes to the dresser. 

“Just this once. For me? I’ve never been to a church service down here before. Sure there are prayers but I’m curious as to how they’re teaching the word.” Helel doesn’t quite plead.

“Oh fine.” Mule sighs rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll go, but stop making promises for me. I appreciate that you’re trying to help and take care of me, but I do like making my own decisions. If it’s about something you want to do or somewhere you want to go well, that’s fine. Just talk to me before making plans because there might be something I want or have to do that day.”

“I’ll make sure to do that next time.” Helel promises.

           “Anyways, I was thinking about maybe telling him about everything this weekend. Maybe I can see if he’ll go fishing with me after church and tell him then.” Mule confesses.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait a little longer? If you do it’s all right. I want you to feel comfortable doing this.” Helel says gently.

“I know. But honestly it’d probably take years and I am not going to let your sister suffer in there longer than she absolutely has to, just because I’m uncomfortable coming clean about all this to my brother. Especially when I know what I’m doing is right. What we’re doing. And I have to have faith that when he knows the situation, he’ll see that, too.” Mule forces himself to admit as he opens the top drawer of the dresser to change. “Helel?” He looks at it. “Where are my socks and underwear? And why are my beanies, gloves and scarf in here?”

“Easy access. Your handkerchiefs are in there as well.”

“My handkerchiefs?” Mule frowns, lifting the gloves. “I have handkerchiefs now?”

“The rest is the second and third drawers.”

“Okay?” Mule opens the second drawer and sees new cotton boxer shorts with camouflage designs, a few are some more exciting colors than the rest. There are some plain white and army green undershirts beside them. The third drawer contains long johns and expensive looking socks. Some are dress stockings, some are for casual dress, and some clearly for sports and exercise. “This kind of also crosses the line into inappropriate. Besides, I prefer briefs, boxer briefs sometimes.”

“Boxers are better for you.” Helel states authoritatively. “I assume you do want to have children someday.”

“I… I don’t know.” Mule pauses at the question. “I mean, I don’t think I could give a child the living environment they needed. I’m going to be hunting and everything when I’m done with probation. I’ll be moving into The Stable, working at the roadhouse in between. And, of course, anything you need me for. A child deserves better than that. So, I guess, no. Probably not. Who would I have one with anyway? It’s going to be a long time until I’m ready to start dating much less try and form a lasting relationship. I can’t even hook up with people yet.” Mule sits down at the edge of the bed. “Anyway, I’ll have my nieces and nephews to dote on, plus I can give them back, so…” He shrugs and grabs some clothes. “What time is it anyways?”

“Seven o’clock, Saturday evening.” Helel informs him. Mule’s still for a moment, then reaches over to grab his phone from the night stand. Five days?! He’s been out for Five days?

“What the fuck! I had meetings and appointments, Helel!”

“You wouldn’t come out. I assumed you needed the rest and took care of everything for you until you were ready. I went to the army navy surplus store, too and got you about a hundred MRE’s. You need to eat healthier than microwave dinners and take out. And those are just as easy and much more nutritious. Plus, I assume you’re used to them.” The angel points out.

“That’s… a hundred?”

“It’s not as if they won’t keep. I’d rather you eat plenty of unprocessed fruits and vegetables but baby steps. Besides, I got a discount for buying in bulk. I wish there was still haggling. I wanted to get to try it.”

“We can go to the flea market or farmers market next week. You can probably haggle there. If not, once I’m off parole we’ll head down to south america. There are places I’d love to go see again. Besides haggling is a way of life down there.” Mule lays back on his bed, since there’s no real need to change. Besides he needs to wrap his head around what’s been going on this past week.

“That would be wonderful. It’s been so long since I’ve walked the earth and I never got to explore what it’s become. Speaking of becoming, I renovated and reorganized the basement this week, and made you a home gym in one corner, with a mini fridge for water and other healthy drinks and snacks.”

“Did you keep the receipts for all of this?” Mule’s almost reluctant to ask.

“Yes, they’re in an envelope in your desk.”

“How much did everything cost? You know, the grand total?” He’s even more reluctant to ask this.

“Fifteen thousand two hundred and seventy one dollars and thirty seven cents.” Helel’s statement catches Mule off guard and he’s glad he’s already lying down because he feels like he’s going to hyperventilate.

“How the hell am I supposed to explain where all the money for this came from?”

“Well, you do live with your mother rent free. And it could be gambling wins. So, there’s that.”

“No, that isn’t that. The nearest casino is out of too far out of the area. It’d be a parole violation.” Mule covers his eyes.

“Well, the truth then, a friend of yours heard how tough things were going for you and sent you some money to help you get yourself together a little more.”

“And the reason it was given to me secretly in cash without using a check, banks, gift cards, or a wire transfer?”

“He’s in the middle of a mission and it was the best he could do without compromising himself.” Helel explains simply. Vague but honest, even if it is misleading, kind of. Maybe. “Here I’ll write you a letter.” Helel eases his way up front and snaps a written letter takes to the inside of a briefcase he carried the money in.

“I’m starting to question whether or not Dean will believe you’re one of Heaven’s archangels in good standing with the lord.” Mule comments dryly.

“Well, there’s no need to mention things that might lead him to believe something that’s not true. And remember, I did tell you some things in confidence.” Helel reminds him, sounding a little concerned as he slips in the back again.

“Don’t worry. I know when something’s not meant for other’s ears.” Mule reassures him and covers his eyes with his hands. “Do I have to go to a meeting tonight or am I good for the week?”

“You’re good.” Helel reassures him.

“So, how was your week of being me? Did mom start to get suspicious?”

“ No. When she got home from her hunt, she spent a lot of time at work. It was incredibly interesting, a little dull at times, but isn’t everything?”

Mule just lays there staring up at the ceiling where Helel has actually placed a grouping of stars with those glow in the dark stick on stars. Helel just talks about his week all night and the strangeness of using only the vessel to accomplish things. It’s actually kind of nice, listening to him again. Mule missed his company and in truth, half the time when Helel is talking about things, it’s kind of adorable. Especially when his enthusiasm for all the things he never had the time to experience or explore before. Helel with animals is especially refreshing in a disney princess kind of way. He can coax anything to come close enough to pet or admire.

In the morning Mule feels better than he has in a while. Even as they get ready to go to church with Dean. Helel only comes forward to take care of the tie.  Other than that he just stays in the background in absolute agony over the mistranslations they’re reading. He does concede that they somehow got the point of a lot of it, and that the conclusions they reach seem to be true, if not always the point of the original tale. He’s also frustrated with the sheer amount of self satisfied smugness he hears in the ‘amen’s and sees in the looks given to other people during the sermon.  It’s only the few people seem to be really listening and thinking about the words, even if they look a little skeptical, that Helel takes delight in.

The angel absolutely refuses to let Mule sing the hymns and takes over for that part. Mule actually finds he kind of enjoys himself a little. Mostly because of Helel’s running commentary and hearing the angel make beautiful sounds he didn’t know his voice was capable of making. It was also nice hearing his brother singing. He’d forgotten what a good voice Dean has. Mostly because Dean tends to just screw around when singing with his friends, or along with the radio, or god forbid karaoke.

When he’s changing for the fishing trip, Helel asks him if he’s sure he wants the angel to leave. But in truth is has to be just between him and his brother. Mule takes a quick drive out to let the angel leave, then fills the gas tank and picks up something to eat at the store, including a watermelon, some fried chicken, and a tub of death by chocolate as well as a bag of ice.

“Ready?” Dean asks as he opens the passenger door.

“No, I’ve just been sitting in the car waiting for you to do everything first. I’m going to go get ready now.” Mule opens the door.

“Sit back down, you smart ass.” Dean pulls on his shirt, until Mule sits back down in the car. “Will we have to stop at Piggly Wiggly first?”

“I already did, the foods in the trunk. I got some bait, too.” Mule nods to the cooler in the back. “You sure Jo doesn’t mind?”

“No, she’s been kind of pushing for us to do some brotherly bonding. I left her a gallon of crystal light and a fruit and cheese tray next to the bed. She’ll probably nap again soon anyway.” Dean shrugs.

“She’s doing okay?”

“Well, she’s nearing the third trimester and her stomach is just right out there. She has indigestion and has now started loathing meat and meat products. She’s eating tomatoes like they’re apples just all the time, and does almost nothing but sleep and eat.” Dean gives an adoring smile.

“Poor thing.”

“Her back is killing her, too, she has to sit up for a back massage, and her feet are all achy and swollen as are her ankles and wrists, so I try to give her a decent massage as often as I can. Not even born yet and my boys are wearing her out already.” Dean chuckles as they drive down to the river.

“Are you sure they’re both boys?”

“That’s what the doctor says. Maybe identical. They’re not sure.” Dean shrugs, though Helel mention to Mule that they’re not and it’s actually a boy and a girl.

“Do you have names picked out?”

“Yeah, with the first one we’d decided on William Samuel Winchester, or Mary-Ellen Wilhemina Winchester. We were going to name the second son Bobby John. So it’ll  be Bobby-John and William Samuel. Billy and Bobby.”

“Really? You’re doing that twin alliterative naming crap?” Mule wrinkles his nose.

“What’s wrong with that? It’s cute, and a coincidence too. We didn’t chose those names for that specific purpose.”

“You might as well name them TweedleDum and Tweedle Dee.” Mule has no idea why he’s arguing with his brother about this seeing as he has an inside track that there is only one boy.”

“Those will be Halloween costumes.” Dean corrects him. “Famous twins or pairs. Starsky and Hutch, Sigfreid and Roy, Han and Chewie.”

“Luke and Leia, Fred and Ginger, Stranz and Fairchild.” Mule teases.

“Lewis and Clark, Iron Man and War Machine, Batman and Robin if absolutely necessary.”

“He-man and She-Ra. Wonder Woman and Captain Rogers. Raggedy Anne and Andy.”

“Why are you so insistent on a boy and girl pair? They’re boys.” Dean starts to get a little irritated.

“Well, you know, they will be sons of the prom queen.” Mule teases getting an annoyed grin from his brother, and pulls to the side of the dirt road to park. Dean takes the chairs out of the trunk along with the fishing poles and let’s Mule get the rest as he sets up everything by the side of the lake.

They sit and fish for a little while. Mule tells a few stories from his time in the service, and Dean lets him know about a few of the more difficult people, like the one who had skitzophrenia, was off his meds and also had several ghosts in his house. A few mentally ill people had ghosts or some other supernatural entity that attatched themselves to them. He confesses that he usually consults Mule’s RPG Wiki when his mother’s not available. Mostly as his work cell doesn’t have long distance.

When they finally catch a bucket full of fish, Mule decides it’s time.

“Dean?” Mule looks over warily at his brother. “There’s something I want  to talk to you about.” He looks back down at his hands when his brother looks over at him.

“Yeah?” Dean says gently, turning his chair to better see his brother. “What 

About?”

“Faith, I suppose, or something like that. There are things I need to tell you and I’m kind of nervous about it to be honest. I know I’ve done some bad things and lost your trust, but I need you to understand that I’m telling you the truth as I know it and it’s really important to me that you hear me out all the way.” Mule glances over at his brother, not sure of the reaction he’s going to get even just for the declaration. But his brother is just looking at him with a thoughtful expresssion. “So no questions or interruptions until the end, or as little as possible.”

“Hold on,” Dean heads back to the car and brings back a small notebook and pen. “Alright.” he nods. “I’m listening.” Mule hesitates but Dean gives him a small, but encouraging smile and nod. “It’s okay, Sammy. Just take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“It started when I was in prison. Well, it really started with Bree, but I wasn’t aware of that until later. I was first aware of it when I was in prison. I was in solitary and very low. I was still struggling with my addiction. Though I was taking opioid painkillers, not heroin, even though it was more effective.   That was after I’d physically recovered from being raped and attacked another prisoner that made an unfortunate remark at the wrong time when I was the wrong person to make it to. I got put in for six weeks and about the fourth or fifth, I just broke down, reaching a point of desperation I never thought I would and I prayed to St.Lucifer, Patron saint of the fallen as suggested in the NA book a guard has slipped me. I felt absolutely ridiculous afterwards when I calmed down, but when I went to sleep, he came.”

Much to his relief, Dean listens all the way through, calmly, patiently, taking notes only interrupting to clarify something. He actually raises his hand. He keeps his voice calm and soothing, nodding at somethings, frowning at some others, but he keeps taking notes. When Mule finishes talking, he waits for his brother’s response. Dean just sits there looking at his last page of notes for a minute until he glances up at his brother and sees that vulnerable pleading look that he hasn’t seen since they were children.

“That’s… that’s alot to take in.” Dean says slowly. 

“I know,” Mule admits “It was kind of hard for me to believe, too.”

“Is he here with you, right now?” Dean asks carefully.

“No, I wanted to do this just the two of us.” Mule nervously rubs his hands against each other.

“I see.” Dean leans back in his chair. “Can I take some time to think about this? ”

“Sure. Of course.” Mule nods. “Are.. will you be going to mom with this?”

“I don’t know. Not yet at least.” Dean taps his pen on the notebook. “I really think this is something you should tell her, or both of us together at least. But can you do one thing for me? While I’m thinking?”

“Sure, name it.”

“Don’t let him back in. It’ll just make me feel alot better about this whole thing, if you keep him out while I’m thinking this over. I know you’re having a hard time and think you need him, but he’s not the only one who’s there for you. If you’re having trouble and need someone, call me and I’ll be right there, it doesn’t matter when. Can you do that for me?” Dean reaches over and puts his hand on his brother’s. Mule nods.

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

“Thank you.” Dean gives his hand a squeeze and lets go. “C’mon, let’s go home and take care of these fish.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helel doesn't quite say goodbye  
> Brotherly bonding  
> Mule's nightmare

“That’s fair.” Helel says slowly after Mule let’s him know how it went with his brother. “We can give him time to think and I can understand how he feels about us sharing a body. If he’d like to speak to me, though, I’d be more than happy to.”

“If he asks, I’ll let you know.” Mule closes his eyes as they gently swing in the large hammock together, each with their heads at the opposite ends. “It went really well, you know. He actually just listened, and took notes. And he’s actually thinking it over. He probably wants to verify some things you know. Talk to Bobby or something. It’s looking kind of good, actually. I should have had a little more faith in my brother. So I guess you were right.” He can’t help but smile at this. It feels like the two of them are actually becoming what brothers are supposed to be and that actually makes him feel kind of happy.

“I usually am.” Helel pats Mule’s leg. “Thank you for trusting me. I know it was hard for you. I also wanted to thank you for indulging me as much as you have.”

“Hmm?” Mule raises an eyebrow.

“You know, all the things we’ve done and talked about that had nothing to do with saving Michael. Let me share your life and not just your body. And your dreams. It’s… my time with you has been the best time I’ve had in over two thousand years.”

“Really? Even with me being a stubborn, reluctant pain in the ass?” Mule only half jokes. 

“Well, nothing worth having comes easily.” Helel shrugs it off and looks off into the brush watching the wind softly rustling the leaves.

“True. It’s nice having a friend again. Someone I can trust and confide in, who pushes me to be better, that I like spending time with. I don’t think I could have made it without you.” Mule confesses.

“Yes, you would have.” Helel smiles gently at him. “You’d made a decision and you were going to stick to it, even if it took a while with a relapse of two, you were going to do fine. Honestly, I wouldn’t have even felt the need to come to you or send someone if you weren’t my vessel because you wouldn’t have actually needed me. It might have been harder, but you’d have made it. The truth is that as much as I’ve helped you, I’ve made your life all that much more difficult. Besides the only reason you were in the position you were in in the first place was because of Gabrielle. If we weren’t in your life at all…”

“I’d have died in Iraq.” Mule reminds him.

“You’d be in heaven right now, Samuel. You’d be happy and content.”

“But Jo wouldn't be pregnant with twins. Dean would have died. That would have broken Mom and she’d have probably gotten careless or suicidally reckless and gotten herself killed on a hunt. She almost definitely died fighting war. And getting right down to it, if you and Bree hadn’t existed at all, none of this would.  All in all, I’d say things are better because of you, especially my life, and my family’s. I mean, Dean and I are actually getting along now and it’s really kind of nice. He’s actually naming one of his sons after me. Middle name of course, but that.. That’s kind of cool, you know. It’s what they would have named the one they lost. William Samuel Winchester.” Mule can’t help but smile.

“I’m glad.” Helel smiles back at him, though Mule can see a bit of sadness in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“You know I’m going to have to go back to heaven after we’re done with this, right?” Helel says softly. From the expression on his face, the angel can tell Mule at the very least hadn’t really given it much thought. “Michael, once we get her out. She’s not going to be okay. I’ll stay down here with the both of you if she needs to me, but she’s probably going to need me for a very long time. I have heaven to take care of as well. I won’t… it’s unlikely I’ll get the chance to come back down nearly as much as I’d like to. If you need me, though. I’ll always come.”

“And if you need me, I’ll be here. We can still have this though, right?” Mule nods referring to the dream itself.

“Maybe.” Helel smiles. “I can probably squeeze it in every now and then.”

“Don’t forget, you need to take care of yourself, too, you know. Heaven seems to be able to handle things fairly well, without you for at least a little while. We could probably schedule some vacation time together after I’m done with parole. We can go to some concerts, maybe a few musicals. I’m pretty sure you’d love those. Museums, amusement parks, maybe I’ll take you to the Campbell Carnival sometime. What do you think?”

“I think… I think I could probably manage that.” Helel’s smile becomes more genuine this time. “I’d love to go to the Rocky Horror picture show again. Maybe just sit in the audience next time.”

“The what?” Mule sits up all of a sudden, almost falling out of the hammock, before Helel reaches out and steadies him. 

“There was a midnight showing on thursday. One of the people at your NA meeting told me about it and invited us. You were still resting. It was fun dressing up and performing in front of everybody.”

“Nooo!” Mule covers his face. “Oh my fucking.... Ahhh! You fucking didn’t! Please at least tell me you went as first half Brad.”

“What? No. Second half Dr. Frank N Furter. I made sure to watch and memorise the movie first and read the audience participation rituals in case I couldn’t get the spot. The theater allowed absolutely all of them with an understanding that the Shadow Cast would be cleaning up after. That’s why I was able to go on. The original one was just not feeling the clean up that night. It was a lot of fun.”

“That’s… that’s almost worse than wrecking my bike. I wondered why random people were calling me Doctor today. I can’t believe… That’s not exactly an angelic movie, Helel!”

“Well, they want us to come back for the next showing. Probably because I took care of most of the cleaning. I think the next one’s on Halloween.”

“No.” Mule says firmly. “Please don’t ever do that again or at least not while you’re in my body.”

“Alright,” Helel sighs. “I’ve already had the experience anyway, I guess. The movie is debaucherous, but incredibly interesting. Very problematic of course, but it’s been turned into a human celebration of individuality and freedom of expression, which is really something to see. That joy and sense of acceptance and community was wonderful. I had hoped to see that when we went to church, but it was so solemn and had such smug self congratulations and hypocracy. And a lot  of people weren’t even paying attention. It didn’t feel like many of them were giving any thought to my father at all. It’s kind of depressing.” Helel gives a heavy sigh.

“I know, that’s part of why I didn’t believe.” Mule sympathizes. “I don’t want to talk about religion, though.”

“Alright.” Helel closes his eyes and smiles at the silence. Mule lies back down as the angel starts singing to himself a soft soothing beautiful song in words Mule can’t understand. It’s beautiful enough, though, to let him just relax and enjoy it as it is until he wakes up.

 

“I still can’t get over that Elmer Fudd tattoo of yours.” Dean laughs into his beer as the game goes to a commercial.

“Yep, he was our mascot.” Mule looks down at this virgin daquiri.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo.” Dean mentions casually, leaving back against the bar.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m married with a respectable job, kids on the way. I love my life, but I feel… old and boring. You know, I’d love to have something to show my kids that their Dad’s not just a stick in the mud, you know. Or at least wasn’t always.” Dean shrugs. “I dunno, maybe it’s stupid. I wouldn’t know what to get, anyways. I mean, I think I come across as enough of a mama’s boy without one of those mom tattoos.” Mule silently agrees.

“I could think of a few things.” Mule grins. “You really should.”

“Do you think you’ll get any more?” Dean reaches back to take a wing from their basket on the bar.

“I dunno. They all have some sort of meaning, you know, commemorating something special or significant. The flowers were all from places I had a successful mission, which is pretty much all of them, or even just took a great vacation. And Elmer there was a mark of brotherhood.”

“We could do something like that. A token of brotherhood. Hey, how about this? You choose a tattoo for me, I’ll choose one for you. We won’t show each other, we’ll just give them to the tattoo artists, choose where we want the other’s placed and get them done together.”

“Sure.” Mule can’t help but smile at the idea. It doesn’t really sound like Dean, except maybe as a midlife crisis sort of thing. Which it could be. But still, it’d be fun picking out a tattoo for his brother.

“Nothing obscene though.” Den points the bone at him.

“Of course not.”

“Or to be placed on a sensitive area.”

“Oh, God, no!”

“Okay. I’ll find a place tomorrow and after work we’ll go get ourselves some tattoos. That way we can take a little time to pick something out for each other.” Dean turns back to look at the big screen.

“Uh-huh.” Mule says skeptically.

“What’s that ‘uh-huh’ for? You don’t think I’ll do it, do you?” Dean accuses his little brother.

“Well… no.” Mule reluctantly confesses. “Yeah, I think you’re going to chicken out.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Nah, I just know you’re going to change your mind last minute.” Mule looks over at him. “I mean, come on, you’re thirty five, Dean. If you were really going to get a tattoo, you’d have gotten one by now.”

Despite Dean’s protests, he looks a little squeamish at the sight of the needles when they get to the tattoo parlor. Mule just gives him a smug smile.

“I’m not chickening out. Tell.. tell me honestly. How much does it hurt?” Dean looks reluctantly over to his brother.

“Less than a shotgun blast to the chest.” Is Mule’s less than reassuring reply.

“C’mon, Sheriff. I’ll tell you what, yours is on the house.” The first tattoo artist pats the flattened and risen chair in front of him.

“Trust me, Dean, it’s nothing you can’t handle.” Mule hands the paper to Dean’s guy.” Don’t show it to him until it’s done.”

“Oh yeah, this is his.” Dean gives his paper to the other guy, who looks at it and frowns.

“Ted, you’d better do this one.” They switch papers. Ted nods. “Where do you want em?”

“His is between the shoulder blades.” Dean points to his brother as he gets onto the seat.

“Top of the left butt cheek.” Mule grins, nodding to his brother, and sits down himself.

“Seriously?” Dean looks over at him. Mule just smiles and takes off his shirt. “Alright, but I’d better not end up with a dick on my ass or something, or I will beat the crap out of you and take money from your savings to get it removed.”

“I promise.” Mule reaches over to pat his brother’s shoulder.

“Damn,” Ted touches the tattoos left on Mule’s back. “This is… his is gorgeous. How long did this take?”

“Eight years. Each flower was added when I was in a different place.”

“I can tell, all the different styles.” He touches them, admiring the workmanship.

“It used to cover almost the whole thing down to my lower back, but you know, shit happens.” Mule comments blithely. “I got most of the scars taken care of but the one still on my back just seems an equally appropriate representation of my time in the service.”

“Marine?”

“Special forces. He made it to First Sergeant by twenty-six. He even had his own unit..” Dean informs them proudly. “You should see all the medals he has.” It makes Mule feel oddly happy to hear his brother bragging about him.

“Man, I bet you have a few stories to tell.”

“True, but I can’t. I have a few entertaining lies I could tell you, though.” And so he proceeds to tell them the ‘story’ about the chupacabra nest they had to wipe out to secure a key location for a top secret operation in Honduras. It successfully distracts Dean from the discomfort of his first tattoo. Mule follows it up with Aaron’s first encounter with the supernatural, which makes his brother look over at him with a surprised expression. But Dean makes it through the tattoo just fine.

“So, what is it?” Dean tried to look back.

“Here.” he’s given a mirror. “Just point it up, we have mirrored ceilings.” Dean does so and starts laughing.

“Yosemite Sam?”

“Sheriff Yosemite Sam.” Mule points out the badge on his chest.

“Okay, I can live with that.” Dean holds the mirror over to his brother who looks up to see a round, ornate black tattoo that looks like some kind of sigil. “It’s protection against evil ward thing. It’s supposed to protect you against ghost possession, glamour, and basic evil manipulations of your mind and body. I thought you’d like it, what with your game and all.”

“Nice.” Mule nods in appreciation and looks back at Ted. “Actually I wanted to talk to you, about getting another tattoo. Not tonight of course as it’ll be a little complicated, maybe a big one. Or two big ones technically. And I’m not that great at drawing so I’ll have to get someone to design it for me.”

“Well, I can copy anything,but creating? Not so much.” Ted confesses. “Hold on, I have a friend who designs tattoos. She’s really good like the quality of these flowers good. How big were you thinking?”

“Maybe shoulder blades and the back of the upper arms. Maybe smaller, I’m not sure. And it’ll be in color.”

“That.. just to let you know, that’s going to take hours, maybe multiple sessions and it’s really going to cost you.” Ted reluctantly warns him. “It’ll be a decent amount for her, too. But trust me, if you want anyone designing your tattoo, it’s Laurel.  Especially for something big and complicated. Here.” Ted hands him the business card.

“Thanks.” Mule tucks it in his pants.

“No prob. I’ll tell you what, come back on Veteran’s day and we’ll fix that Marine tattoo up for free.” Ted offers.

“I think I might just take you up on that.” Mule smiles and waits while they explain to Dean about taking care of his tattoo while it heals. Mule can’t wait to tell Helel about it.

 

A soft hand caresses his cheek. Soft lips upon his skin make promises always kept before, as she teases him. The familiar glorious torture.

“I love you, Samuel.” She whispers into his ear as she presses her body against his. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” He wraps his arms around her. “I love you so much, Bree… mmmm…. Please. I need you so badly.”  His head is spinning with unfulfilled desire, he loves her but almost hates her at the same time.

“If you want me, then why don’t you just take me?” So he does, rolling them over and pinning those wicked arms to the mattress. Frustration and desire take over in brutal passionate thrusting, spurred on by her cries and moans until they’re nearing ecstacy.

“Tell me your mine.” she moans. “Tell me you’ll never love anyone but me.”

“I never will. Never.”

“Can I keep you?”

“Yes.”

“Forever and ever?”

“Oh god, yes.”

“Tell me I can have you, heart mind and soul, Oh, Samuel I want you so badly.” She moans. “Please… please say yes.”

“Yes. yes… Oh god yes.” and he can feel it flowing through his veins the bliss, the unity, sweet release shuddering through him until he almost collapses on top of her, laying cheek to cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” he whispers “My beautiful Bree. You can have anything you want of me.”He rolls off of her, not wanting to stop touching her, but not wanting to crush her under his weight either. She turns along with him, wrapping her arm and leg around him, stroking his chest as he starts to drift off on a cloud of joyful contentment.

“Do you really mean it?”Bree asks in a small uncertain voice.

“I’m yours, Bree. Heart mind and soul. For ever and ever, wherever you are, wherever you go you take them with you. Just promise me you’ll always love me the way you do right now.” 

“Silly, Mule. I don’t love you at all.” Her hand stops just below his ribs and digs deep inside him. Mule cries out at the pain, but finds his hands bound in chains, his feet as well. The pain is intense searing itself into his brain until he feels as if he can’t take anymore but he does. It finally reaches it’s climax as something is plucked from inside of him and drawn out from the torn flesh. 

He wants to pass out, but can’t. He wants to throw up but he can’t. His body is  still trembling from the pain. His eyes start to focus and he can see her hand covered in blood, holding something red and oddly shaped, something moving.

“Mmm.” She moans as she bites into it, covering her lips and chin with blood as she does so. “So sweet, so pure, so you.”She continues to eat it with moans of pleasure. “Oh, it’s so good, would you like some?” She holds it up to his lips and much to his disgust, he sinks his teeth into it. Sweet, yes, the purity of a rare flower, yes, but every second it’s in his mouth it gets more and more bitter until it overwhelms the other flavors. He can’t make him self swallow it and tries to spit it out until Bree firmly covers his mouth with her bloody hand, leaving it no where else to go.

As soon as he swallows he throws up but nothing comes out but an ocean of golden liquid, the color of her eyes, the color of heroin, drowning him until there’s a sharp crack. floor opens up underneath him.

“I’ll see you downstairs.” Bree blows him a kiss and vanishes, his half eaten heart still in her hand. The bed starts to fall, only to bed wedged into the end of the crack at the foot of his bed.

He can feel himself starting to slide down. Though his body is still chained securely to the bed, he slips right out of it. He’s unable to grab hold of anything as he falls down into the pit below. Suddenly a hand grabs hold of his. He raises his eyes to the fluid angelic beauty above him, wings spread wide, keeping them both from falling further in.

He can feel things climbing and pulling at his legs making it harder and harder to hold on. The angel pulls with all of his might, trying to lift Mule out, but just as Helel starts to make some progress something bites into Mule’s skin. The bliss that fuels him relaxes his own grip letting him slip through the angel’s grasp. As the heat grows hotter and hotter, he can see the angel fighting to enter the abyss and come after him but it’s too small and his wings won’t fit. Much to his horror, the last thing Mule sees is the angel drawing his blade and severing his wings from his body before diving down after him.

“NOOO!” Mule wakes screaming and out of breath.  His heart is racing inside his chest, beating so hard he can almost hear it. “What the fuck…” He grabs hold of his head. He had a nightmare. A vividly terrifying one. He hasn’t had a nightmare since the first day he met Helel. He’d thought he was free of them, or that somehow the angel had kept them at bay. Maybe… maybe he was just happy enough not to have them.

It’s the worst one he’s had so far, but of all of it, the most terrible thing was watching his angel destroy himself to come after him. Watching Helel Fall. Because of him.


	32. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night of brotherly bonding goes very very wrong

“How you holding up?” Dean asks as Mule rests his head on his hand at the kitchen table.

“Alright. I’m just a little tired.” Mule picks at the tomatoes.

“You look it.” Dean comments and looks at his brother’s plate. “You know you don’t have to finish it, right?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. It tastes fine. I’m just not very hungry.” Mule sits back in his chair, rubbing his eyes a little. He’s been having nightmares lately. On monday, Helel had sent down the assistant librarian to let him know that something’s blocking communication between them including interfering with Helel’s influence on his dreams, and that it’s probably Gabriel, He should be able to figure out what’s going on soon enough and for Mule to just hold on, or go to his brother if he needs help before they can get in contact again. Not that he feels like telling Dean about still speaking to Helel in his dreams. He’d probably consider that cheating.

“I’ve been doing some research and I can’t find anything that says the archangel Michael was the one sealed way.” Dean says calmly.

“Well, no, I guess you wouldn’t. I mean it’s not something heaven wants spread around. She was the commander of God’s army. If some of the pagan gods out there knew she was gone, they might decide to try something. Helel’s not exactly known for his prowess in battle, though he’s second only to Michael. He wants to keep the chaos down to a minimum and prevent civilian casualties.” Mule explans.

“Hmm.” Dean takes a drink. “From what you’ve told me about this angel of yours, I’ve really got to say, he doesn’t exactly seem that ‘angelic’.”

“So he recognizes that not everything is black and white. There are shades of grey and difficult decisions to make. And he’s pretty curious about how things are down here. It’s not like he gets to sight see. Until me, taking a vessel was on an emergency basis only kind of thing.”

“That’s another thing that bothers me.” Dean motions his glass towards his  younger brother. His taking vessels when he knows his very presence will kill them. I don’t like that. I don’t care what justifications he has for it, it’s still murder. How do you know it’s not killing you? Only slower.”

“I guess… I don’t, except that I kind of do. I trust him.”

“Why? Because he cried?” Apparently his brother feels that tears are his weakness just like Aaron does.

“You didn’t see it, Dean. It wasn’t just crying, he had a complete breakdown. I know it wasn’t fake because… well because it wasn’t pretty, or the least attractive. Honestly, he looked like hell.”

“So he’s a convincing actor. He tried to bribe and manipulate you from the very beginning. How do you know he wasn’t still doing that. And because it wasn’t pretty is not an answer, Sam.” Dean stands up, taking the dishes to the sink. “There’s apple pie if you’re up for dessert. And yes. I have vanilla ice cream.”

“Sure. But, where do you think I got those angel tears for mom, Dean?” Sam asks him.

“They’re just called angel tears, Sam, they’re not actual…” Dean stops and looks back. “Those are actual tears from your angel?”

“Yeah. They are. He cried and dozens of these and the lore that supports them being actual angel tears says that even one is a rare find, shed only at an angel’s deepest sorrow. That was two thousand years worth of pain, sorrow, greif, guilt and desperation that finally broke free after holding it all in for so long. Like I said, you weren’t there.”

“Yeah, but Sam.” Dean puts the ice cream scoop in the sink and the carton back in the freezer. “This angel is saying he’s Helel Ben Sahar, the second most powerful of the archangels. Is there really no way that he couldn’t have faked it? And don’t just say you’d have seen through it if it was. I hated Bree, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she truly loved you with all of her heart, that she adored you beyond reason. So did you. How do you know this isn’t more of the same kind of manipulation?” Dean brings the plate of warmed pie and melting ice cream back to the table.

“Because when you were shot, he could have taken advantage of the situation and demanded my consent in exchange for saving your life and I would have given it to him without. He knew that. He had to know that and he didn’t take advantage of me. He didn’t even mention my saying yes to him for that. Not before hand, not during, and not afterwards.”

“Sam, I know you want to believe this. I know that after what you’ve become, you want to feel special, but it’s really obvious that this angel, whoever he really is, is using you. He’s lying to you, manipulating you and you can’t even see it.” Dean puts his hand on his brothers his eyes filled with deep concern. “He’s not helping you, Sam. I know that he’s not. You don’t have to pretend with me. Just… three little words, Sammy. That’s all you need to say. Three words.”

“I love you?” Sam raises an eyebrow at this. His brother looks more than a little ticked off at this, but he swallows it and regains his composure.

“Sam, he’s not trying to get you to save Michael, he’s trying to get you to let the devil out of her cage!”

“The Nightingale is the devil, Dean.” Sam protests. “You know, my ex-fiancee, Bree?”

“Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. But I’m not turning a blind eye to what’s happening with you this time. I’ve seen you furious and miserable because of this angel, and don’t try to tell me it wasn’t because of him. I can see you starting to deteriorate without him around. That’s not something that happens when you’ve gotten help, that’s dependency. He is making you completely and utterly dependant on him. I won’t let you get pulled back down into that lifestyle again, Sam. I don’t care if his presence can heal your body and help you pass those blood tests. I don’t care if he can snap up cocaine and heroin out of thin air. It’s still going to hurt you. I’m not going to sit by and watch you destroy yourself and hurt everyone around you again. This creature is no good for you, Sammy.” The fact that his brother is outright pleading with his eyes, is the only reason Sam can’t get as mad as he feels he should be. He’s more puzzled at the weird things Dean is saying.

“What… what are you talking about? He’s the reason I’m still clean. He took away my nightmares, my pain, my scars. It’s not just… Do you have any idea how hard it’s been? I thought when he took the pain away it wouldn’t be, or when he cleaned it from my system and healed it. It’s still so fucking hard sometimes. But he’s there for me when I need him and sometimes he needs me, too. This isn’t anything like with Bree.” Sam tries to reassure him, “Not even remotely like it.”

Dean gets up and goes to the table by the front door and takes out a large tan envelope before bringing it back to the table.

“You asked me to hear you out, Sam. You asked me to think about what you told me, what you’re asking of me. Now I’m asking the same of you. Look at these, tell me the conclusions you get from this compared to what you’re telling me. Feel free to search for anything, absolutely anything to back up what you’ve been told. Maybe I’m wrong, but these say differently.” Dean leans forwards putting his hand on his brothers, squeezing it tightly. 

“God knows, I’d love it if you were right.” he continues, “There is nothing I want to believe more than that an honest to god angel from heaven has come down to save you and send you on a holy mission. Hell, if I was the vessel of St. Michael, called upon to help save him from his wrongful imprisonment, I wouldn’t hesitate a single moment. But what these say you’re asking me to do… I can’t risk it. I need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that what you’re saying is true. Because the consequences of you being wrong are apocalyptic, Sam. Do you even know...” He shakes his head as Sam picks up the envelope and looks at it. He can see his little brother’s face growing hard.

“This envelope has been in that drawer for weeks, Dean.” Sam looks at it.

“What makes you say that?” Dean doesn’t deny it.

“Because the obstetrician called to reschedule one of Jo’s appointments one day when you were both resting. I couldn’t find the dry erase marker and this was the only thing I found to write on until I did.” Mule turns it over to show the doctor’s name, and number under reschedule thurs 29th’s appointment. Dean remembers that. It’s the one he had to “It’s still sealed, too. I figured it was something from work. What’s going on, Dean? And tell me the truth. I told you. At the very least you owe me the same.”

“Bree came to see me one day, while mom was out hunting.” Dean starts.

“Before or after Helel stopped her from murdering our mother?” Mule asks coldly, already absolutely infuriated by what his brother is telling him.

“After. Trust me, I would have shot her on sight if I was able to move. But I couldn’t. She told me the truth. What she did to you. Why she did it. That she hated me every bit as much as she hated Mom. Which made me want to kill her even more. And let me tell you that hasn’t changed one bit and I will never forgive that fucking whore for any of it.

“But she told me what was going on. That there weren’t four archangels, there were seven. St Lucifer, St. Michael, St, Raphael, her, Azreal, Samael, and Cassiel. She and Samael were cast out of heaven, him for convincing Adam and Eve into eating the forbidden fruit, and her for killing the angel of truth to cover their tracks. Raphael left heaven to be with Bree. Though Cassiel loved Samael as much as Raphael loved Bree, he stayed in heaven. Cassiel was a double agent in Samael’s war against humanity. Bree claims that she just likes all the things she’s not supposed and indulges herself in any and every way she wants.

“When Samael was finally caught and locked in the cage, she was glad because Humanity is her favorite plaything. If he actually succeeded in destroying them all she wouldn’t have anything left to entertain herself with. But Cassiel had other ideas and she was plotting to free Samael. Bree burned heaven’s library so Cassiel couldn’t find his and Samael’s vessels. And when she saw our mother pregnant with me, she knew I was Samael’s vessel and tried  to destroy me before I even had a soul, so I’d be lost to him forever. But it didn’t work and mom and I were hidden. So instead she started trying to find you, Cassiel’s vessel so she could get your soul and send you to hell so Cassiel would never know you’d even been created yet.

“That didn’t work either so as a last resort she came to me and begged me to stop you.”Dean explains. Mule pushes the chair back, and just stares at him brother in complete bewilderment.

“And you just… believe her? Just like that?”

“Of course not!” Dean snaps. “I’m not stupid. I did my research. I got help doing my research. I had to make sure because if she was telling the truth… I knew you were hiding something, Sam. I knew something was going on. I hoped she was lying to me, that you were just… broken or crazy. But I don’t think she is.”

“Seriously? After everything she’s done to this family! With everything Helel has done FOR us!”

“She said if I could stop you she’d give you back your soul!” Dean raises his voice. Mule just gapes at him. His mother promised, promised she wouldn’t tell Dean. “Please tell me she was lying, Sam. Tell me she was lying about that. Tell me you didn’t sell your soul for a needle full of heroin! That you paid for! Tell me you are not that fucking STUPID!” 

Mule can’t say anything. He didn’t believe in any of that crap. Hell she

encouraged that non belief. A daughter of god herself, she must have found it hilarious.

“And what exactly.” Dean demands. “Is your angel doing about that? Huh? I didn’t hear you say anything about how he’s getting your soul back.”

“It’s taken care of.” Mule says quietly.

“So, you have your soul back?”

“No. Not yet. I… it’s complicated.” Mule sighs, knowing that this part of the conversation will not end well.

“Tell me.”

“I can’t.” Mule winces a little.

“Why not?” Dean says in a way that makes it clear that there will be no good answer to this question.

“Because it’s not just law enforcement and journalists that have to protect their sources, Dean!” Mule grits his teeth. The hardness just sinks out of his brother’s eyes, replaced by desperation.

“Sam…. Sam, just look at these.” he picks up the envelope. “Use your brain. You don’t have any proof that you can believe anything that angel says to you. This backs up her story. I’m still willing to listen, Sam. If you can find anything, anyways to prove conclusively that your angel is telling the truth, I promise I will help you. Even if you just get proof that it’s Michael who’s in there, I swear I will help you free him.” Dean places the envelopes in his hands. “Please, Sam. That’s all I’m asking.” Mule looks at the envelope for several minutes trying to just clear his thoughts, stop the swirl of emotions inside of him. Dean wants it proved conclusively. The only way to prove conclusively that Michael is in there is to let her out.

“So, what your saying is that all of this, does not actually prove anything. Not conclusively. Not without a shadow of a doubt.” Mule says slowly. “Or are you just trying to manipulate me? Telling me you’ll listen and you’re open to proof otherwise when you’re not? Even if you’re sincere, you want me to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt. That’s the prosecuter’s job, isn’t it? The provide the burden of proof? Not the defendant.”

“You’re not on trial here, Sam.”

“Really? Because I sure as hell feel like it!” Mule taps the envelope against his open palm. 

“Maybe because deep down inside you know you’re doing something wrong. You know things aren’t the way you want to believe they are. It’s not too late, Sam.” Dean pulls his chair closer to his brother. “You haven’t done anything you can’t back yet, and even if you have it’ll be okay. I promise. I will do anything to protect you now that I know what’s going on.You’re my brother, Sammy. I love you and I don’t want anything more to happen to you. You are better than this.”

“I’m better than this, but not good enough to actually be St. Lucifer’s vessel.” 

“I never said that.” Dean keeps his voice calm, though Mule can still see the tears he’s almost can’t keep from falling. “But remember, you’ve been fooled before.”

“So were you, Dean! So was Mom! By the very same Fallen Angel you believe right now. And you know what she is now! You know what she’s done and you still believe her over me.”

“This isn’t about you, Sam. It’s not. Not like that.”

“Bullshit!” Mule stands up. “You’re telling me to put my faith in the Goddamn Nightingale! The fallen angel who put me through hell while pretending to help me, pretending to love me.  And not in Helel, who has done nothing but help us. Hes the reason you’re still alive, Dean. The reason you and Jo are having children! He’s the reason mom isn’t dead right now. He took my pain away, my nightmares, healed my injuries and helped me through my darkest moments. Hell he’s working all this around my schedule, to let me live my life and have a life to come back to when this is over and he doesn’t have to. Yes, he’s vain and arrogant sometimes, condescending even, and he’s not always right, but compared to Bree....”

“Sam...” Dean tries to calm his brother down, by reaching out to his arm, but Mule just knocks his hand away.

“Don’t try to defend this. The heart of this matter is that given a choice between trusting the nightingale or trusting me you choose HER!”

“Just look at them, Sam!” Dean stands up, holding the envelope back out to him.

“You know what? No. No. I don’t need to look at this. Hell, for all I know these aren’t even real. It’s not like she hasn’t fucked with documentation before. Because if I have to choose between the Nightingale or Helel for.. anything, it’s no contest. I trust him. I believe in him and I have faith in him and let me tell you it did not come easy. And nothing either of you says, or shows me will ever change that!” Mule takes the envelope and rips it in half and then in half again before tossing the peices on the kitchen floor.  “I have been doing everything I’m supposed to do! Hell, the reason I was saying no to him at first, even after I believed he was who he said to be, was because I didn’t want to let you and mom down again. And you know what? He fucking worked with me so I could have that. He helped me through so many times where I know I would have relapsed without him…”

“GODDAMNIT, SAM!” Dean smacks his fists down on the table so hard it almsot cracks. “Stop it! Just stop, okay?”

“What…”

“I know you’re still using, Sam! I know your angel is covering up for you. Just stop lying to me! I’m trying to save you, Sam. I’m trying to save your life and your goddamn soul!”

“I.. What?! I’m not still doing heroin. I’m don’t even take friggin asprin anymore! Where the fuck is this even coming from? Bree?”

“I found your STASH, Sam!” 

“I DON’T HAVE A FUCKING STASH!”

“You put it in my car. MY CAR! Did you think I wouldn’t fucking find it? How stupid do you think I am?”

“Oh, let me guess. Bree told you I was still using so you decide to check that out  and how convenient that I was stupid enough to put drugs your car. Did it occur to you that maybe she planted it there?” Sam throws his hands up in disbelief.

“I’m not doing this. I’m not doing this with you, Sam. You are not putting us through this again! I’m not going to let you and I’m also not going to let you jeopardize all of humanity just because you’re so desperate to believe you’re more than thieving junkie!”

“I’m leaving.” Mule starts to walk away but his brother moves in front of him, placing one hand on his brother’s chest and the other on his holster.

“Put your hands behind your head, Sam.”

“What?” Mule just looks at him in disbelief.

“Put your hands behind your goddamn head,”

“Are you f… are you actually… I haven’t done anything, Dean!” Mule knocks his  brother’s hand away from his chest. “I have been clean for months, I have passed every test met every requirement. You didn’t find them on me, you found them in your car under a tip from the ex girlfriend who abandoned me and I haven’t seen in three years. You sure as hell won’t find any of my fingerprints on any of it. And you can say that I’ve been high, but you’ve had me tested so often there’s not even a chance that I was using absolutely anything. And what are you going to say to that? That an angel possessed me and healed my body to help me cheat on a fucking blood test?” He demands as his brother backs up. “Is that what you want? To be humiliated in court?”

“I said, put your goddamn hands behind your goddamn head.” When Dean draws  his gun. The look on his brother’s face is one of absolute devastation. “I’m sorry about this, Sam, but I’m pretty sure you can kick my ass now. So I’ll tell you what. I will toss you the handcuffs and I want you to put them on, hands behind your back.” Dean tosses him the handcuffs. “Other than that, don’t fucking move.” 

“You’ll really shoot me, won’t you?” Sam says softly, stunned. “You’d even kill me,  wouldn’t you?”

“Only if I have to. Please don’t make me do this, Sam.” He undoes the safety.  Mule just looks at him a moment before starting to put the handcuffs on. “This is for your own good, Sammy.” Dean says gently. Mule pauses at this his disbelief giving way to anger. His own good? His own fucking good? Putting him back in prison is for his own fucking good? “Sam…” Dean says his name in warning tone.

With a quickness his brother forgot he even had, Mule grabs the cutting board off the table, one wrist cuffed, and smacks the gun out of his hand before Dean can bring himself to fire.

“This is NOT going to fucking happen!” Sam growls. It’s a longer, fiercer fight than  he expected and he almost wasn’t sure he’d be able to get Dean to go down and stay down without killing him in the process. Partly because just as Dean couldn’t pull the trigger, Mule holds back without intending to.

He looks at the time. He had four hours before Jo and his mother get back from  their girls night out. What the hell does he do now? Besides get a four hour head start. This is a disaster. An absolute disaster, and he has no idea what to do about it. If he runs, it might not be Dean that comes after him. It might be his mother. And god only knows what she’d do after seeing what Mule’s done to her favorite child. What ever hope he had of willing cooperation is just out the window now. He can’t get ahold of Helel, and it’s unlikely his mother will give him war’s ring.

Well, if Dean won’t cooperate willingly, he’ll do it unwillingly. If his mother won’t lend him the ring, he’ll just take it and bring it back. He needs the rings, he needs the blood of the two vessels and a vessel to let Michael into. If Dean won’t do it than Mule, the currently empty vessel will. How will he accomplish this mission? What else does he need for it?”

Tranquilizers, rope, duct tape, a hand truck, an IV, two of them, a trunk you can fit a body in and a couple guns. Probably a van. A motel room, and some bolt cutters. Lockpicks and last but not least, the rings. That means a phone call to his mother. Even if she says no, he has to at least try to do this the right way.

“Everything alright?” Is of course how she answers the phone.

“Mom? I need to borrow a couple of things. A freind of mine, his sister is in trouble and he needs my help rescuine her and getting her safely back home.”

“A freind? One of your old army buddies?”

“Marine, mom. We’ve done a few missions together. But I’m pretty much all he has right now. I can’t really go into the details, but I need to borrow the impala, and… the ring.”

“What ring?”

“War’s ring. I was told you have it. I’ll bring it right back when we’re done.” Mule closes his eyes and hopes beyond hope this vague truth thing Helel does so well will work.

“Do you need me to come with you?”

“No, we’ve got this. I should be back by morning.” Mule rubs the back of his neck.

“Alright. You know where the spare keys are. Don’t press the red button, it’s not fixed yet but it’ll cause problems. Definitely, definitely don’t go anywhere near the green button , especially if there are any cars or curves on the road, or anything but empty highway from horizon to horizon. Actually, just… no on any non standard buttons or levers. And the ring is in my sock drawer in those god awful christmas socks Ellen got me purely for the fact she knows that I hate them. If you need anything else, especially some back up, call me and I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, mom.” Mule smiles,

“Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you, too, mom.” Mule’s still smiling as he hangs up the phone. She said yes, trusting him, with the car no less. He half expected that to be harder to get her agree to than War’s ring. He should probably tie up and properly tranquilize his brother before he regains consciousness.


	33. Rescue Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mule commits to the mission.  
> Dean's betrayal places him between a rock and a hard place  
> Mary is not happy.

“Dean,” Dean can hear someone gently calling his name.“Can you hear me?”

“Mm...mmmph.” he realizes he can’t open his mouth because something is  covering it. Not only that, but his hands and feet and waist are secured to something that doesn’t feel like a bed. 

“Open your eyes.” He does to a bright light being shone into his eyes. He blinks but one is held open, then the other.“Alright, looking good. Does your head hurt? Blink once for yes, twice for no. Or you know, angrily glare at me for ‘fuck you’.” His eyes adjust to the light and he sees what might be the face of his brother if he was a bruised, swollen nightmare lit by the flickering flames of hell. Then he realizes that there are lit torches everywhere around the old abandoned church. 

Dean also vaguely remembers the two of them beating the crap out of each other. Or more accurately his brother’s fist hitting his face with all the force of the hind leg of a mule.  He also remembers thinking briefly, ‘oh that’s why,’ in regards to Sam’s nickname. And then nothing else, though he’s fairly sure there was a lot of fighting before that. He doesn’t remember landing any blows himself, though the pain in his knuckles argues otherwise.

“Don’t worry. This will be over pretty soon.” And don’t worry about letting Michael use you as a vessel. I’ll do it. I’m pretty sure Helel won’t mind since he can’t be here like he wanted. Hopefully I’ll be able to take control of my body one she’s inside. Helel doesn’t really refuse me access if I want to be in charge of our movements. Just remember she’s been in solitary for thousands of years.So she’s probably going to be kind of a mess. Hopefully she’ll still be able to function. Helel will probably get a vessel. If he was able to get my message, and come get us, so don’t worry about that. He’ll make sure to clean you up and let you loose and take you home and everything. If not I left it so that mom will be tracking us down and can find you. I won’t be coming back, Obviously, so you’ll have to return mom’s ring for me.

“So, give Mom my love. Remember to give her the ring and the Impala’s in the parking lot of the Motel 8 right in front of the motel room. The prepaid room’s key is in your pocket. It’ll take about six hours to get home if you choose to drive. Don’t touch any non standard buttons or levers, especially not the green one. Mom’s instructions. It’s probably not road legal so try not to get pulled over. 

“Do not use the van out back, it’s stolen, so is the hand truck, actually. I put about forty dollars in your pocket so you can catch a cab to the motel and order some pizza or something. The address to the motel is on the matchbook also in your pocket. Actually there are a few things in your pockets. I had to leave your wallet at home, but your license is in your right one and your debit card, so don’t worry about driving home.

“You’re probably feeling hungry about now. I’m not sure how long this is going to take. It’s a fairly ornate set of blood grooves. I’m not going emptying our bodies. We’re just losing about as much as a donation to the red cross. I don’t know when you’ll eat next and you really shouldn’t be driving at least until morning. The room is paid for two days, so you can sleep in and recover a little bit.” 

Dean just stares at his little brother, wondering when little Sammy became a violent sociopath.

“Here, I brought the standard blood-letting fare, apple juice and animal crackers.” Mule rips the duct tape off. “I apologize for the catheter, but I didn’t want you to pee on Mom’s supplies in the back of the trunk. Plus, I’m not sure how long you’ll be tied up before someone’s able to free you.”

“What the Fucking Hell, Sam!”

“Really? You were going to arrest and/or shoot me, Dean. You pulled a gun on  me! I don’t know why I was surprised. You did shoot us the last time we tried to tell you, but that was when Helel was there and you tried to exorcise him. Here. I know you’re thirsty.” Mule holds up a bottle with a straw in it to his brother’s lips. Dean does not drink.“You’ll have low blood sugar if you don’t eat something and I want to make sure you make it back to the hotel alright.”

“And how will I do that tied to whatever you’ve tied me to?” Dean demands coldly.

“I told you, either Helel will untie you or mom will find and untie you. I left her plenty of clues to find you here.”

“Sam… Sammy. Please don’t do this. It’s not too late to just stop and go home. You just… we just need to get you away from these things, that’s all, we’ll put you into rehab and it’ll be okay.” He keeps his voice even, trying to reason with him. Part of him feels it’s well beyond that but it’s all he can do.

“You’re a drawn gun past being able to ‘reason’ with me, Sheriff.” Mule goes beside him and adjusts the IV. “I would have just taken some blood from you back home, but it has to be fresh, like still warm fresh, so… I figured this was the best way to do it. This way there’s no risk of you bleeding out no matter what happens.” Mule puts the bag full of blood up higher and lifts the bottom up to place a new, longer tube in the bottom.

“You know this is insane right? What you’re doing right now is completely and utterly psychotic!”

“You’re a civilian. I don’t expect you to understand.” Mule replies just as calmly as his brother was before.

“I’m what? I’m the fucking Sheriff and part of that involves hunting.”

“And I am a special forces Marine who hunted both man and monster for the US Government. I’d think you’d forgotten about that, but I’m not sure you ever really understood what that meant.” Mule looks at him. “Granted I’ve been a mess for a while, but the skill set remains. I’m sorry it had to be this way, but I’m on a rescue mission and you are a vital if unwilling component to it’s success. I can’t let my personal feelings jeopardize the mission.”

“This isn’t a rescue mission! You’re being tricked into freeing the devil!”

“You’re the one being tricked by the devil, Dean. For the second time, knowing that she’s at the very least the Nightingale, an evil untrustworthy devious son of a bitch. Because you think I’m walking trash and so much less than you in every way that she’s more trustworthy to you than I am. I mean, I know I fucked up, Dean. I do. That’s why I let myself be arrested the first time and actually stayed in prison. What I don’t understand is why that makes me less trustworthy than the goddamn Nightingale.”

“That’s not what this is, Sam. It’s just.. You have to admit your judgement’s at least a little compromised.” Dean watches as his brother securely tapes the tube to the ground, leading up the the circular start of the grooves on his side.

“True. I’ve ignored the little voice inside me that’s been telling me all along that thinking you would ever have faith in me ever again is nothing but a pipedream. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done wasting time trying to get through to you. I hate that this is the second time I’m going to have to tell Helel ‘I told you so’. I’m not going to enjoy it any more than the first time. But no Helel and Michael are super partner besties forever, so as their vessels we obviously have that same potential. To be fair though, they were the only two beings alive at one point. I guess that creates a hell of a bond.”

“Feeling a little chatty today, are we?” Dean says semi-politely. Mule actually laughs a little at the comment, surprising his brother.

“I must be spending too much time with Helel.”

“Or.. you're talking nonstop so that you don’t have to think about what you’re doing.” Dean suggests gently. "Because if you did, you wouldn't be able to do it."

“You mean the fact that I’ve kidnapped and tranquilized my brother, tied him to a hand truck and brought him into an old abandoned church so I can drain some of his blood to use, along with the rings of the four horsemen of the apocalypse in a ritual meant to open the cage made to contain the devil in order to release the angel inside because another angel told me it was really a good angel put in there by accident by the husband of my ex fiancee who in fact actually is the devil and not just satan’s girl friday? Is that what you think I’m having trouble wrapping my head around?” Mule laughs in genuine amusement and not quite like the crazy person Dean’s afraid he is. 

“See.” Mule opens the bag up. “This is why I called you a civilian.” He walks around the other side and puts another tube into the iv set up in his own arm and tapes it up.

“Sam! What if you can’t take this angel inside of you just like you can’t take in Helel anymore?” Dean calls as a last resort.

“Well, Dean, I suppose in that case that we and a lot of other people in the area around are going to die in flames.” his brother snaps. “More to the point though, what makes you think that Helel can’t use my body anymore? Because as far as I knew we were just having a communication issue. Because if for some reason I can't and you know why, that could be some life or death information right now!”

“The protection charm on your back isn’t just for protection, it’s the ultimate anti-possession charm. Keeping even archangels out.” Dean confesses. “And blocking communication.”

“Well, Dean. I think we have a fucking problem then don’t we?!” Mule takes a breath. "It's okay, then, Have fun in heaven before they resurrect you. I’ll be in hell, so thank you for that, Dean. Thank you so much.” Mule unsheaths a knife from his side and does his best to reach back to slice through the ward before the grooves are filled, but it’s too late.

As the blood reaches the inner seal with the rings, Dean realizes that there is nothing he can do to stop it whether he says no or not the angel inside is being freed. And the only way he can even possibly hope to see his wife and children again, save his brother and the people around them, is to say yes. He hopes to god that his little brother is right or at the very least that he’s able to assert control over his own body once the angel is inside.

 

“Samuel.” Helel is just a vague sound that barely forms meaning in Mule’s subconscious. “Samuel, you have to let me in!” He always has to ask. Mule wonders why he can’t just give him a spare key or something. ‘MULE! Let me in before you DIE!” Mule lets him in.

He snaps back into awareness and sees the wet, burnt remains of a curtain he can remember falling from the wall, a massive flaming pile that he only just managed to keep from his brother’s motionless body by covering it with his own. He remembers being on fire. Everything was on fire. Everything was falling, pillars, beams tiles from the roof, and fire.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here now.” Mule’s not sure if Helel’s talking to him or Michael, who’s half cradled in the angel’s arms. “I’ll take care of them Samuel, and I’ll take care of you, I promise. Everything will be alright. Michael… Mitcha I’m here.” He starts speaking a language that Mule’s only heard before in his songs. But the feelings behind it are clear. Helel’s coaxing and soothing the other angel, who remains motionless and completely unresponsive.

“Is she alright?” Mule asks as Helel rests his head against his sister’s, holding  her close to him.  

“No. I’ve never seen her so dim. She isn’t saying anything. I’m not even sure if she can hear me.”

“And Dean?”

“He’ll be alright. We just… we need to… I need to…” Helel’s voice trails off as they both realize the angel has no idea what to do. They expected Michael to be a wreck, but they didn’t expect this.

“You could take her back to heaven. Would she get better there?”

“I can try. But you’ll have to stay in back and rest. There won’t exactly be a way for your being to process heaven while still alive. I’m not even sure that I can return there with your hellbound soul in tow, much less…”Helel stops talking all of a sudden.

“Get your goddamn hands off of my son.” Mary’s cold voice strikes fear in Mule’s heart.

“Let me go up front.” Mule says quickly. “I can talk to her.”

“I can’t let you up front, Samuel. You’ll die.” Helel says slowly.

“What?”

“Gabrielle’s blade is currently piercing our left lung about an inch from our heart.”

“So, she’s pretty much got you by the balls.”

“Pretty much.” Helel doesn’t move. “I don’t want to drop them to the stone floor,  Mrs. Winchester.” For Mary’s sake, Helel hopes that Michael is as unaware of things as she seems.

“What have you done to my children?” The venom in Mary’s voice is terrifying given the blade piercing his grace right now.

“You really need to let me talk to her somehow.”

“I haven’t done anything except save their lives.” Helel says calmly. “Don’t be  alarmed when I snap my fingers, I’m simply going to heal your children’s wounds.” It’s only then Mule sees the charred melted skin on his arms with the full knowledge that every inch of him that was exposed to that flaming curtain is now the same way. Without Helel he’d probably die from the pain alone. “You were burned very badly, Mule. enough to destroy the symbol on your back keeping me from you. I wasn’t sure I’d be in time. I’m so sorry, but none of your tattoos are left.”

“Fine, but don’t try anything funny.” Mary’s voice remains cold. Helel nods and gently touches Dean’s forehead healing the injuries from the fight. He’s completely untouched by the flame, though some of his clothing is charred. Helel makes his own vanish as well. “Who are you angel, and why shouldn’t I kill you?” Mary demands. “And yes, I know you’re an angel. Angels are the only ones I can ever get this close to undetected.”

“My name is Helel Ben Sahar more commonly known as St. Lucifer.” Helel starts.

“Bullshit. Try again.”

“Is it always going to be like this with your family, Mule?” Helel asks irritably.

“Probably, yeah. They’re pretty much all hunters on mom’s side.” Mule sighs.  “Not with Bobby, I don’t think, but with Ellen, definitely. Keep in mind how badly your little sister has fucked with us. Just wait until I tell you about the bullshit she told Dean. That's why I ended up having to kidnap him and forcibly drain his blood.

“You WHAT!” Helel exclaims. “No, we will discuss this later, Samuel. Mrs. Winchester, the only reason I can give you not to kill me is that in doing so you will be killing your son and sending him to hell. I’m not sure how exactly to prove my identity, but I would like to call one of heaven’s healers to come and take a look at Michael, if you please.”

“Who’s Michael?” Mary demands, not giving an inch.

“My elder sibling. Michael, St. Michael commander of the heavenly host.” Helel says gently “She’s the one using your eldest as a vessel right now. She’s not well.”

“Call Raphael.” Mary demands. Helel’s eye actually twitches a little at this.

“Raphael is not one of Heaven’s angels.” Helel grits his teeth. “He wouldn’t come at My beck and call regardless. Ariel is his successor, the best healer in heaven. She is perfectly capable of helping me tend to Michael. I’m certainly not going to trust Michael’s care to the angel who pushed her into the cage to begin with.”

“Fine. Call Ariel.” Mary doesn’t move at all. “And only Ariel.”

“Thank you. Ariel please come down, I need you to help Michael.” Helel speaks calmly and evenly. “It might take her a few moments to find a vessel. I would request that you remove the blade from our lung. It’s likely to startle her and we’ll find ourselves in an awkward situation. What do you need in order to believe I am who I say I am? Besides the fact that Samuel and I saved you from the wounds War inflicted on you and from Gabrielle.”

“Given you had plans for my children, that left them burned and comatose, you shouldn’t have.” Mary’s tone has not softened anyway.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” Helel closes his eyes, trying to compose himself. “You should have waited for me, Mule. Everything could have gone so much more smoothly than this.”

“Then you should have spoken to Dean yourself like I asked you to!” Mule defends himself.

“So I wanted you and your brother to actually improve your relationship, developing a true bond with each other. Forgive me. It was worth at least trying for! You’ll need him when I take Michael back to heaven and can’t be there for you as much as I like. And I’m not even going to pretend that you’re not going to insist on ‘not bothering me’ and keeping your pain to yourself far longer than you should.” Helel scolds him.

“He was just… it wasn’t real, Helel. He was faking it, manipulating me, trying to keep me from helping you.” Helel can’t bear the hurt and anger in Mule’s voice, desiring once again to beat the crap out of his brother at the very least for being so incredibly, heinously bad at trying to love his brother.

“I’m sure he wasn’t, Samuel. Your brother loves you. I’m sure he thought he was trying to help you.” Helel gasps and puts a hand on the floor to steady himself as Mary withdraws the blade completely. Ice fills the wound freezing the skin around it leaving frost trailing over his back, sealing in his wounded grace.

“BROTHER!” They hear a young woman shriek and suddenly the church fills with angels, blades in hand.

 


	34. Clearing Up The Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helel chides his siblings  
> He and Mary work out a way to preserve her son's livelihoods while Michael recovers.

“Put those blades away!” Helel snaps through clenched teeth as one starts to move forwards.

“But Brother!” The red head stops short.

“Why have you left your posts?”Helel asks more gently, though it’s clearly difficult for him. “Anael?”

“I… You were attacked and… and injured.” She stammers.

“Did I ask for your assistance, Commander?” Helel softly chides her.

“No, sir. But we didn’t know if you were able.” The angel straightens up and protests. “The only one we know of who could harm you would have killed you as well.”

“Do you think I can’t take care of myself, Anael? Even in regards to him?” Anael’s  posture starts to shrink at Helel’s gentle rebuke.

“ No, sir.”

“I appreciate your concern, all of you, and have to commend you on your  incredible response time. I’m very impressed with you. But there had simply been a little misunderstanding, that’s all. Everything is perfectly alright. Now all of you, return to your stations.”

“And… and Michael?” Anael asks as the angels look at the two of them, distress and concern clear in each and every face.

“She will be just fine. She just needs a little time to recover from her ordeal. I will let everyone know her condition as soon as I can, I promise. But she is finally free, which is cause enough to rejoice. Now go.” The slightest irritation is in his voice, but it’s enough to shame them.

“Yes, sir.” She bows her head and the angels disappear as quickly as they came, except of course, for Ariel who’s giving Mary a dark look.

“Ariel? Could you tend to Michael? I will be fine. I just need to rest for a while. Samuel, you’ll have to come up front for a while. I will still be able to hear you, Ariel.” Helel withdraws, healing the rest of the vessel’s wound as he does so.

“Hi, mom.” Is the first thing Mule says, timidly looking up at his angry mother. “Thank you for not killing me.”

“Sorry, Sam-a-lam. I didn’t realize it was you until it was almost too late.” She bends over and kisses his cheek. “Now, what the HELL did you do to your brother?!” Her voice shakes slightly.

“Can we discuss this later?” Mule asks hopefully.

“No. We cannot discuss this later. You needed to borrow the car, you said, and the ring. To help rescue a freind’s sister or did I mishear you?”

“That was the truth, only the friend was the archangel Helel Ben Sahar and the sister is the Archangel Michael.”

“Now explain the part where there was a bloody struggle in your brother’s kitchen with blood under the fridge and two untouched apple pie slices with melted ice cream knocked to the floor. And why the hell there’s a hand cart and IV and burnt pieces of duct tape stuck to your brother and the cart! For that matter why did it have to be MY car? And I swear to god if you say it was the only car that could hide a body in the truck, I will beat your ass bloody.”

“What was I supposed to do? Put the bound tranquilized Sheriff in the back seat where anyone could see him?”

“Samuel Henry Winchester!”

“He believed the nightingale over me, mom! He was going to arrest me again, He threatened to shoot me! I needed him to help free Michael and everything all went to hell so badly this was the only way it was going to happen. And just so you know the only reason he’s lying there and not me is because that bastard tricked me into getting a tattoo of the ultimate anti possession charm that blocked Helel both from talking to me and coming back to my body. I was going to take Michael in. He only told me about this after it was too late to stop the cage from opening! So if he didn’t in the both of us and a good portion of the surrounding area would have been destroyed by her presence alone.”

“That is very true.” Ariel agrees. “Michael is not well enough to control his grace yet and it’s been a long time since any of us could walk the earth in our true forms without harming it. Helel,” She looks at her older brother. “Michael is.. She’s extremely depleted of grace, but otherwise has no physical damage. I can’t speak for her mental state, but as drained as she is, it’s unlikely she’ll be able to regain consciousness while in her vessel. Aside from that, I’m not entirely certain she can hold herself together enough to control the power she has left without one. If we bring her back to heaven she could cause an incredible amount of damage.

“Once she’s recovered at least enough not to maintain her vessel without resting, she can come back up to heaven without danger. I’ll see what can be done in regards to speeding her recovery. I’m not sure how to do this for archangels, given you’re not and never were in need of heaven to maintain your grace.”

“We have faith in you.” Mule smiles at the troubled angel. “And what about his vessel, my brother?”

“He’s perfectly fine.” Ariel reassures him. “He will take no harm from Michael’s presence, needing neither food, water or the resulting eliminations.”

“He does have a job and a pregnant wife, with children on the way.” Mary says coldly. “When will we be able to get him back.”

“Get him back? I don’t… Vessels usually remain vessels until they or their angel are destroyed.” Ariel awkwardly informs her. This is not the answer Mary Winchester is looking for, and the look in her eyes in almost terrifying.

“We’ll make sure Dean both returns to his life and has a life to return to. Just like Helel’s done for me.” Mule reassures his mother who is looking more and more angry with him every passing second. “I promise, Mom.” She doesn’t say anything, she just looks at him.

“Tell your angel I want my son and my car home now.” Mary demands.

“How dare you speak to the viceroy of heaven that way!”Ariel bristles, her fear overwhelmed by her indignation. “No, Brother, this is too much. With everything you have done for humanity, how dare she speak to you with less that complete and utter respect and reverence?”

“Ariel.” Helel comes back up front and reaches up for her hand, gently pulling her down to kneel beside him. “You have to understand. This woman has been fighting Gabrielle for over thirty years. She’s been hunting our Fallen brethren and doing everything she can to save humanity every bit as much as we have. She has been especially determined to protect and care for her children. For all she knew we are just more fallen angels who’ve taken her children from her. Ask yourself, what would Michael do in that situation? Would she be demure and respectful? Would she pause to give them the benefit of the doubt?”

“No.” Ariel responds, looking down at Michael, who’s head is cradled in Helel’s arm.

“Have a little respect for this woman. She is one of the greatest guardians of humanity alive.” Helel puts a hand to her cheek. “I know you are worried and this is a difficult task before us, but I have faith in you, little sister. I know that with your help and care, everything will be alright. Thank you for your concern on my behalf.I know it only comes from a place of love and devotion.” He kisses her forehead.

“I can at least help heal you now.” Ariel pleads.

“I will be just fine. I mend very quickly. You know that.” Helel reassures her. “Shut up, Mule.” He continues pleasantly, his kindly smile looking slightly irritated for a second. Ariel just looks at him with a rather pathetic little pout and puppy dog eyes close to tears. Helel sighs. “Alright. But only to make you feel better.”

“Thank you, brother.” Ariel goes to his back and places a hand on the very spot where Mary stabbed him. “You’re still a bit frozen. Is there any way you can thaw a little?”

“Yes, it’s a protective instinct.” Helel speaks, though clearly not to Ariel. “Also when I get angry or upset I tend to… Oh, please don’t.” Helel scrunches up his nose, then laughs a little.

“Thank you.” Ariel gives a sigh of relief and concentrates a moment, her eyes glowing blue and the shadows of her wings falling across Mary’s torso and the walls behind. “There you are, all patched up.” The lights fade and she looks outright exhausted. “Next time that woman injures you, please let me know.” She gives Mary a hate filled glare. Mary just stares the angel down. “You, woman, are so lucky Michael’s…” She can’t finish the sentence and just returns to heaven in a huff.

“I apologize for my siblings rudeness, Mrs. Winchester.” Helel looks at her. “I’ll take everyone and everything home.” He snaps his fingers. Mary finds herself back at her son’s house as the angel places Dean and Michael’s shared body gently onto his bed.

“I’m going to get Jo. The both of you are going to explain to us exactly what has happened to her husband and what led up to this. From the very beginning.” Mary sheathes her blade, leaving the two alone.

“I suppose you should tell me what happened first. In detail.” Helel retreats inside to better talk to Mule who reluctantly tells him what happened the night before. “You and your brother… He actually had more faith in Gabrielle’s truthfulness than in your judgement! But did you have to kidnap him?”

“I thought so, yes. If I hadn’t taken action right then, it would have been virtually impossible for us to do it later.” Mule says cooly, expecting a rebuke, but Helel surprises him with a firm embrace.

“I didn’t want it to be this way for you two. But Thank you for rescuing Michael. I should have found a way to be there.” Helel apologizes. “I should have found a way.”

“No, it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I trusted him and he betrayed me. From the very beginning he never really intended to listen to anything I had to say. I was just a suspect he was pursuing from the second I got out of jail. All for my own good, of course.” Mule buries his face in Helel’s shoulder. “None of it was ever real.” Helel doesn’t argue this time, he just holds him tightly. “He really will be alright, though, won’t he?”

“He will. And I’ll make sure Michael gives him back his body once she’s able. As long as Michael has control of his body, he won’t need to eat or sleep or anything at all to maintain himself. He won’t age, get sick or hurt or die. But for now We have to figure out how to keep you and your brother’s lives intact until Michael recovers.”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on helping Michael recover?” Mule asks, reluctantly breaking away from his angel.

“I made you a promise, Samuel, “Helel puts a hand to his cheek. “I’m going to keep it. She wouldn’t even be free of the cage right now without you, or your brother. I will never ever forget what you’ve done for us.”

“Likewise.”

 

The conversation does not go well as Helel insists Mule be the one to give the complete account of what happened with him and his brother. At the end of it Mary just looks exhausted and buries her face in her hands. Jo doesn’t say a word. She just walks up to him and slaps him across the face, then walks out of the room.

“Sam, Helel.” Mary speaks calmly, looking up at them. “What’s the plan here? What are we doing about this?”

“Samuel will switch is workdays to Dean’s day off and I’ll take Dean’s place at work. This way neither of them loses their jobs or attracts suspicion. This week one of my siblings will take Samuel’s place at the shelter. Your son should be able to hear you if you speak to him. Maybe your words can encourage him and help him get the strength to make his way up front, but it may be like trying to push an elephant off the road. It’s not going to happen without the elephant’s cooperation. I’m not sure. At the very least it’ll let him know you’re there. I’d like to request that I be allowed to stay with my sister overnight. I… I haven’t gotten to be with her in so very long.”

“I understand. Jo and I will arrange to split the other shifts. I’ll arrange things at the garage. Jo’s appointments are pretty much all in the morning so I’ll see about going in to work around one. She can take the afternoon until nine.” Mary nods. “Ellen will be coming up to help her get to her appointments and run errands and such.”

“I was also thinking of bringing donn one of my healers to help take care of Jo. Twins can have a lot of complications. We can make sure she carried as close to term as is good for her and the children. We can also make sure to help her in any way her mother can’t both before and afterwards.”

“That would be much appreciated.” Mary sits back in her chair slightly more relaxed. “Do you promise my son will come out of this alright.” Its more of a command than a question.

“I promise. I never expected her to be this badly off. I wish things could have been done differently. I hate the harm that’s been done to you and your family because of this, but everyone of you has the full gratitude of heaven and all it’s angels for what you have done and are doing. I swear I will do everything I can to make things right.” Helel reaches out to touch Mary’s hand, “We promise to make all of this up to all of you.”

“I don’t think he can.” Mary stands up and walks out of the room.

“She’s upset. She doesn’t mean that.” Helel soothingly attempts to reassure Mule. He doesn’t say anything. “Get some rest, it’s been a trying day for you.”

“It’s been fairly rough for you,too. I’m fine staying up here with you.”

“I have Michael. I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry. You need to rest your spirit.”

“Get me when it’s time to drive.”

“I’m sure I can drive just fine, Mule.” Helel gently chides him.

“Like you were sure you could drive a motorcycle just fine? Let me do the driving. He lent me his car and not you, anyway.” Mule insists.

“Very well, if you insist.” Helel can’t help but feel a little irritated at this.

“Don’t forget his limp.”

“I know what I’m doing, Samuel!”

“Alright! Alright.”

 

The day goes fairly smoothly. There’s a lot of paperwork to do, but he finishes it fairly quickly and ends up going on a few SS calls which apparently stand’s for Sheriff’s Specialty. The first one is a lonely old woman who thinks someone’s in her apartment for the third time this week. The nearest officer checked it out but when they found nothing she insisted they call for Sheriff Winchester. When he attends to these cases permanently they don’t get the chain of repeat calls they otherwise would have. In this case, the culprit was a ghost of the previous tenant. Helel was easily able to call a reaper and convince the spirit to move on.

The second one was a young man who had called because the neighbor’s dog  kept barking and waking him during the day. He worked a night shift and wanted to file a noise complaint. Unfortunately the noise ordinance only applies at night. And it was the mailman as usual that the dog was barking at. So with the owner’s permission he worked with the dog to keep him from barking at the mailman and brought the complainant a white noise machine, a sleep mask and some black out curtains to help him sleep deeper so the noises of the day would be less likely to disturb him. He also suggested running a fan for relaxing ambient noise.

There are a lot of calls like that over the week. Some on a seperate work cell phone made specifically for that purpose. A few are from units responding to someone going crazy from too much or too little drugs in their system, There are also a few domestic violence calls. He’s successful in convincing one woman, the one with children to leave him and takes them to a safe house on the county border. He leaves her his number and promises to respond immediately if she’s ever in trouble. Also if she can’t communicate, even just a text of the number 9 will alert him. He also got permission to access the gps on her phone in case he needed to find her in those instances. According to Dean’s own system that he’d left for the temporary sheriff when he had to leave. The murder rate in fairly low in the county. Though he does look in on a lot of interrogations, taking over a few when he can.

Helel also gives a talk at the juvinile detention center and issues a surprise inspection with both Health and building inspectors as well as a group of off duty nurses volunteering to give the children physicals. It does not go well for the detention center. Almost all the administrative staff is fired, the secretarial staff is promoted and replaced. As well as most of the security. Almost anyone in a position that has direct contact with the children is fired. Unless of course one or more of the children specifically put in a good word for was kept. Though that condition was not made public. 

Each night Helel sits beside Michael who they moved into the guest room so Jo could sleep in her bed without being disturbed. Her mother shared the bed with her in case she goes into labor. Helel talks to his sister in enochian telling her stories about what’s been happening, since she’s been gone. How much he misses her. Letting her know over and over that she’s safe and she’s free now. He also sings her favorite songs to her. He manages to find a Stradivarius violin the best kind of the instrument reputed to produce the most beautiful sounds. He teaches himself to use it within a day. The sounds that fill the house after that are breathtakingly beautiful especially when accompanied by his voice.

They infiltrate Mule’s dreams including one composition that sparks the memory of a north peruvian girl who after a long walk in the forest invited him to make love to her behind a waterfall. It was a lovely moment in time of two people connecting with each other, softly, tenderly enjoying each other’s bodies. The memory is refreshing, relaxing and something he’s missed more than he realized. 

They’d spoken and enjoyed every inch of each other until dark, when he took her to dinner and thanked her for a wonderful time. It was probably the briefest and most pleasant love affair he’s ever had. But it wasn’t expected to be anything more and never lost it’s perfection in the ending of it. Though on waking he feels more than a little uncomfortable about it, given Helel’s there.

“Rest well?”

“That song you played last night? You know, duh duh da duda boma daa.” He tried to copy it.

“I know which one you’re referring to.” Helel grins, a little surprised that he actually does. 

“Maybe you could not do that one again?”

“Alright.” Helel replies, “Alright, Mitcha.” He takes her hand and kisses his sister’s cheek. “I have to go to work. I’ll be back tonight. Dean’s mother will sit with you this morning and his wife will be here this afternoon. Zarachiel will be nearby if you need anything and of course you can always call for me and I’ll be here in moments.” As always Helel has to force himself to walk away.

  
  
  
  
  



	35. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helel as Sheriff Winchester has an interesting case  
> Mary goes to an outside source for help with Michael and her son.

“Good morning, Sheriff.” Allen hands Helel a coffee and donut. “I’m afraid we’ve got an early one.” He holds up a report.

“Trespassing?”

“Yeah, some kids out late cow tipping. They said there was some sort of wild man in the barn in some secret room, but you said to give you stuff like this, so, here.”

Helel puts the donut in his mouth and takes the papers, walking right back out again, to the work car. Allen follows him out and gets in the passenger’s seat. Helel raises an eyebrow at him.

“There’s another brother and he’s escaped from lock up.” Allen says bluntly.

“I’ll be fine, Allen.” Helel reassures him.

“Oh, I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about me because if something only almost happens and I’m not there covering your ass? Your wife will murder me.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.” Helel puts the cup of coffee down in the cup h older and looks over the paper real quick..

“I know it’s just one of those ‘keeping the peace’ jobs, but honestly, aside from the threat, I’ve been kind of worried about you lately, Dean.”

“Any particular reason.” Helel buckles in.

“No, you just haven’t seemed like yourself lately.” Allen follows suit. “Is everything alright? How are things with Sam?” And the aforementioned Sam is reminding Helel about his promise not to drive, but he’ll need to have a talk with Allen first.

Helel knows exactly what sort of thing Dean would be talking to his best friend about. What his worries have been and how he’d have voiced them, but for the life of him, he can’t bring himself to say it, especially not with Sam there.

“I’m just exhausted, that’s all. Jo’s gotten big now and it’s getting closer and closer. It’s stressful good, but stressful, you know. I have what I’ve been wanting for so long and now that it’s almost here, there are all these new concerns and things to stress about that I really wasn’t prepared for.”

“I remember when we were having Anna.” Allen starts and Helel let’s Sam take over. With a few encouraging statements, Helel helps Sam keep the deputy talking as they drive out to the small town. The form is pretty far away from the town. The farm is pretty far away from sthe town, it’s hard to call it a part of town actually.

When they get out of the car Helel let’s Sam finish the donut before taking back over. They walk up to the front door and knock firmly on the door with the traditional law enforcement knock. It takes a moment but the door opens to reveal a man with clean hands to the wrist in a blood covered snack and Apron and a hair net that is thankfully not. He and Helel just look at each other. The man gives a sniff and swallows not quite nervously

“Can I help you gentlemen?” The man asks cautiously.

“Good morning. I’m Sheriff Winchester, this is Deputy Sheriff Barrister.” Helel gives a friendly smile and holds out his hand. The man reluctantly shakes it.  “And you are either Judd Smith or Haymish Abernathy.”

“Abernathy.” He nods. “Judd’s upstairs. He takes the night shift so he sleeps during the day. Do you need me to wake him?”

“No, not yet. Mind if we come in?”

“Feel free. Mind if we talk in the back? I’m kind of working.” He nods down to his a pron.

“Of course not. I understand how precious time can be for a small business  owner.” Helel takes off his hat, and follows him to the back. “We’re here about the trespassing incident of course.”

“They called in the Sheriff about some cow tipping?” Abernathy raises an  eyebrow at this. 

“Well, it’s more about what they said they saw. I mean obviously given what they were on, they didn’t see what they thought they did, but if I didn’t look thoroughly into every wild accusation and one of them was true? You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I do.” He puts some gloves on as they enter the large added on room that looks like the back of a butcher’s shop. Everything not being used is clean and put away, sheilded by a curtain of plastic strips. There’s a humongous freezer on one side, and a side of beef on the table. “Mmmm, listen, officers… Can I count on the two of you to be discreet?”He makes a slight grimace.

“Of course.”Helel promises. Allen nods as well.

“It’s… it’s hard enough being a biracial gay couple in this area, but being a pair that sometimes takes a step outside most people’s comfort zone in doing so…” He gives them  a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Well, at least so far as they’re willing to admit.” Helel grins. “One of us will still need to check it out.

“Yeah, it’s, um, under the first haystack on the left when you go right in. You’ll need the silver key on the key rack. The barn’s open.” Abernathy points to it.

“You go check it out, Deputy, I’ll stay here with Mr. Abernathy and discuss what to do about the trespassers.” 

“You sure about that?” Allen look over at him. Helel nods.

“You two do make an interesting couple, I can tell you that much.” Helel looks out the window after Allen. In a moment, the man’s pushed him against the wall with the knife to Helel's throat.

“Alright, mister. What the fuck are you and what have you done with Sheriff Winchester?” He snarls.

“I beg your pardon.” Helel looks him steadily in the eyes.

“I’ve met Sheriff Dean Winchester. I have shaken his hand and you ain't Sheriff Winchester.” Abernathy sniffs again.

“Ah, my scent. I am wearing his cologne.” Helel protests.

“A little too much of it, but not enough to mask the weird smell of yours. I swear to god if you have that good man…” He growls pressing the knife against the skin.

“Dean Winchester is just fine. He’s currently in the service of heaven. I am simply taking care of his job and family until he can come back. That’s all. I wasn’t aware you knew each other.”

“Not exactly. I went to meet him when he was campaigning one night, got in line with Judd and introduced myself and my boyfriend as such. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t bat an eye. He just smiled, shook our hands and said, ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Smith, Mr. Abernathy. Any one gives you trouble, you just let me know, no matter how this election turns out.’ and he gave me his card. Does his momma know about this? You’re in for a world of hurt if she don’t.” He eases up a little.

“Yes, she does. So you are aware that this is Mary Winchester’s county.” Helel asks carefully.

“Yeah. I figure since we aint killing people, we won’t be having any problems.” He shrugs and backs up, putting the knife in the sink. “Sorry about that.”

“Do the Winchesters know they have a vampire and werewolf couple living in their territory?” Helel snaps the blood stains off of himself and the uniform.

“Obviously not.” Abernathy rolls his eyes. “She has stopped to pick up a few steaks for her daughter in law. I think tellin’ ‘em would really push the limits of their tolerance. Though we don’t kill people to live. I eat pork hearts and other organs. Judd drinks the blood. We sell the rest. Sometimes we do beef when we get sick of pork. Doesn’t taste as good but it’s different and makes us appreciate the pork a lot more when we go back.” He shrugs. “Or don’t you believe me?” 

“I believe you. You have have pig heart stuck in your teeth, right here.” Helel points to his own teeth. “You’re really going to have to talk to Mary about this. Tell you what, I’ll be home tomorrow. Bring some ribs and no steak, Jo’s now repulsed by steak. Come around seven and we’ll talk.” Helel offers.

“Mom will kill you if you bring a werewolf and a vampire into her home or even tell them where she lives.”Mule informs his angel.

“You’re probably right. How about I bring her over here for dinner?”

“Who.. who are you talking to?” Abernathy gives him an odd look.

“My vessel, He pointed out she wouldn’t appreciate it if I invited you two into her home. So inviting her here would be a good show of faith on your part.”

“What are you again?”

“I’m an angel. An archangel in fact. The Winchesters are under my protection.”

“The Winchesters don’t need your protection.” Abernathy chuckles. “Except maybe the Sheriff.”

“He has his own angel right now. Nothing can hurt him. Why did you decide to live here? Even after finding out Mary Winchester lived nearby.”

“No other nests or packs in a fifty mile radius. I’d hate to get caught up in the carnage, you know. We found out why about the time we had to fix the pickup. Just wanted to leave, but I said, nah, we’re not hurtin’ anybody so why would she come after us? She won’t even know what we are if we don’t give her a reason to suspect. I’m not sure how he’ll feel about inviting her over and introducing ourselves, but I guess the jig is up regardless.” He sighs.

“Hmm. About your trespassing problem. Have you thought about getting a dog?” Helel asks. Abernathy just gives him a incredulous look as if he thinks the angel’s forgotten that he’s a werewolf and most dogs don’t really care for them. “If you get them young, they can get used to you. Then it’s just a matter of training. You can have him protect the barn to keep people away when it’s in use.”

“I dunno. It seems like alot of responsibility. We’ve kind of got our hands full with the livestock. And I don’t want any lawsuits over biting.”

“I’ll send you one of the soulhound trainers from the kennel to help train him, though you do need to participate as much as you can in order to form a bond. I’ll also help you pick out a good puppy for the job. My vessel and I work at the Animal shelter in Lawrence on Saturdays so come down and I’ll set you up with one. Just ask for Mule.”

“Sounds good if we don’t get killed tomorrow.” Abernathy admits. “I’ll talk to Judd about it and let you know.”

“Alright. About those trespassing charges.”

“We’ll drop ‘em. Just, if you can keep ‘em quiet.”

“They won’t even remember.” Helel promises. “But I’d suggest you get a better fence at the very least. And try sound-proofing the room a little. Better locks on the trap door maybe?” Helel suggests.

“Yeah, maybe. But we’re not exactly getting rich here, you know. We do alright   But replacing all the fencing…” Abernathy scrunches his nose at the thought.

“I understand. Call me if Judd objects to the dinner.”

“I will.” Abernathy looks over to the door as Deputy Barrister comes back into the house. “Everything satisfactory?”

“Yeah, interesting. To each his own, right?” Allen shrugs. “Sorry for the trouble, sir.”

“It’s fine.” He waves it off. “Gotta do what you gotta do.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” Helel nods and follows his deputy out. Hopefully Mary’s in a listening mood. He should probably print out some local crime statistics or something, focusing on disappearances or odd murders.”

“Well, that was interesting.” Allen comments on the way back to the car. Helel nods. Maybe this might be asking a little much. There’s a phone call as soon as he gets in the car.

“I forgot about the moon. I’ll reschedule once my nights are free, just in case.”

“Sounds good.”

  
  


Mary sits on a bench down by the lake where the ducks gather, gently tossing them pieces of bread.  She’s not quite ready to go home yet. She hasn’t been for weeks. Weeks of her son just lying there, unmoving, unresponsive. Zarachiel has been making him this softly glowing tea. Three times a day, eight o’clock, four o’clock, and midnight.

As unreasonable as it feels to her, she still can’t bring herself to speak to Sam. She can’t even really bring herself to speak to Sam. She can’t even really bring herself to forgive him. She knows she’ll forgive him. She knows that in the grand scheme of things what her youngest did was right and righteous and probably seemed necessary at the time. She knows the fact that Dean is in this state is not Sam’s fault, or Helel’s, not really. They couldn’t have predicted that Michael would be in this state, trapping her son inside of himself. 

But she’s angry, so angry at him for how he did it. That he could even think of  doing something like that to his brother. Granted Dean was painfully wrong and what he tried to do was just as bad as what Sam did. But it’s Dean who’s lying comatose for weeks with his wife getting closer and closer to giving birth. It’s Dean so close to losing everythign he’s worked so hard for. Who may already have lost it. It’s Dean, who she fought so hard for, who she so nearly lost before he was even born. 

She loves them both, she does, but Dean has always been her little angel. So kind and loving and generous, always her darling little boy ready to help, ready to talk, ready to laugh with her. When Sam was running away from her as fast as he could, Dean was always there. Always her baby boy. Proof that with all her flaws, she could raise a good successful man with the life she’d always dreamed of for her children.

Someone sits down beside her on the bench and starts throwing popcorn to the gathered birds. After a moment she composes herself and straightens up, glancing at the man sitting beside her. He’s black man with a shaved head, wearing a dress shirt and nice slacks. Though the top few buttons are undone and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He’s holding a small brown bag of popcorn, some of which he offers to her after a moment. She graciously accepts as she’s out of bread.

“Thank you.” She takes a few kernels from it and tosses them close to a duck in the back who hasn’t gotten anything.

“What did you wish to speak to me about?” He asks casually.

“New vessel?” Mary glances over at him.

“Yes.” Is the reply.

“So, Michael has been freed from the cage and is currently using my eldest son  as a vessel.” Mary tosses a few more pieces of popcorn.

“Yes, I know.” Raphael replies and after a moment of silence asks. “How is she?"

  
“Not well.” Mary looks at the squabbling ducks. “Neither he or Dean have spoken, moved or even opened their eyes since Michael emerged. It’s been weeks and as far as we can tell, there’s been no improvement. Someone’s by their bedside twenty four seven. There’s also an angel there all the time to take care of Jo and give Michael this glowing tea. Also to contact Ariel if there’s any change. She’s in heaven trying to figure out what to do to better help Michael.”

“There wouldn’t be much information on Michael. It’s been a very long time since she’s required healing. What did she say was wrong?”

“Not enough grace. She could barely hold herself together with out the help of being in a vessel.”

“It makes sense. Michael… she never would have stopped fighting her confinement with every-thing she had until she couldn’t fight anymore. What angel is looking after your daughter in law?”

“Zarachiel.” She informs him. Raphael gives a nod of approval. “Is there anything you can do to help them?”

“From what you’ve told me it sounds like they’re trying to help Michael recover by feeding him the grace of other angels, through a tea made of their tears. Unfortunately there’s an overwhelming difference between theirs and ours. It’s enough to keep her from deteriorating any, but it’s as unlikely to replenish her grace as it would be to refill this lake with a water pistol during a dry spell.” Mary’s heart and sinks at his words. So she’ll never get back her son and Michael might never recover. Raphael puts a hand on her shoulder. “But there are two options that will help her recover her grace. Ideally both should be used. The tears of a compatible archangel and the human soul.”


	36. Motherly Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary does everything she can to get her son back.

Mary just looks at the angel sitting beside her. Did he just say a human soul?

“The human soul regenerates. If you siphon off a small piece of it, the piece will  grow back in three weeks time. To accelerate the process to three days, drink the tea they’re serving to Michael. If you begin to feel notably weak, take ten angel tears directly and let them dissolve in your stomach. It will be fully replenished in three days. As for compatible archangel tears, each of us can only be helped by the tears of a specific other. Lucifer’s tears are compatible with Gabrielle’s grace. Michael’s tears are compatible with mine, and Gabriel’s tears and compatible with Michaels and it doesn’t work the other way around. My tears can probably help Lucifer but I’d never give them and he’d never ask. He doesn’t need much healing anyway. There’s not much you can do to the natural state of his grace.”

Mary takes in what he says. Michael could need the nightingale’s tears to help  replenish her grace. Obviously that’s not an option. She can’t imagine the nightingale crying real tears. So the only solution will be feeding him her soul.

“What about an archangel’s tears? I mean to help my soul heal faster. Like Helel’s. My son gave me a couple dozen for my birthday.” Mary asks. The angel beside her looks startled, either at the concept of her being given dozens of angel tears, or the idea that his brother cried at all. She’s not sure which.

“That… it would be incredibly strong. Exposure to too much of our grace in any form, even tears, could severely harm you or your son’s vessel. One of our tears would be equal to a hundred of our younger brother’s. Michael can handle one of Gabrielle’s tears without it affecting his vessel. For you, I’d recommend mixing two of Helel’s into a gallon and a quart of iced green tea, and only drinking a cup a day. After the first feeding of your soul, keep drinking the tea but wait two days before feeding and drinking the tea every day. Using Lucifer’s tears, you can feed her your soul until you start to feel tired. If you lose too much it would render your soul unable to stay connected to your body and you could die. If you do so until you pass out, do not attempt it again for at least a week of drinking your tea. Always drink your tea before a feeding and feed Michael a hot drink of one of Gabrielle’s tears before letting her have some of your soul, for greatest effect.” Raphael claps up a midsized purse full of light honey colored tears. 

“She… she won’t notice they’re missing?”

“It would be almost impossible to notice. If you run out before Michael wakes, just let me know.”  Raphael looks down at the bag. “I’ve left instruction on how to syphon off pieces of your soul and prepare the teas. There’s also the precautions I’ve told you about, with more detailed explanations.  All I ask is that you do so as secretly as you can and not tell anyone about my involvement. And I mean anyone. Even if you think it would benefit any of us. Because it won’t. All it would do is cause severe problems and limit my ability to restrain my wife.” He looks her directly in the eyes before handing the bag to her.  

“I understand. There is something I’d like to show you, though. To make this covert operation worth your time.” Mary grins and takes out her cellphone.

“It’s not necessary, but I admit I’m curious as to what you think would be.” he leans over to look as she goes through her email.

“Alright, so, someone sent me this video a few weeks ago saying ‘I thought you should know what your child is up to.’ It confused the hell out of me until I learned of Sam’s partnership. Of course, then it confused me even more, but I know my son at least well enough to know that’s definitely not him up there.” She full screens it, turning her phone to the side and starts the clip, handing it over to Raphael.

It only takes a moment of astonishment before Raphael laughs his head off. The song sweet transvestite plays softly in the background. He’s actually crying with laughter by the end.

“Is there any possible way I could keep this? I don’t exactly have my own device.”

“C’mon. We’ll go get you a tablet or something and I’ll transfer it over.” Mary stands up and stretches before heading to the impala. “You have to admit he’s fantastic, though.”

“That’s hardly a surprise. He’s good at everything.”Raphael rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know about that. I’m fairly sure he totalled my son’s motorcycle.” Mary says with a bit more venom than is really called for.

“I see you’re not very happy with him.” Raphael comments.

“Not so much, no.” Mary frowns. “I don’t like being deceived, especially by my 

own children. I especially don’t like anyone encouraging my children to deceive me and placing my children in harm’s way. Much less pitting them against each other.”

“They are grown men.” Raphael reminds her. Mary just tightens her lips and  heads off to walmart.

 

“Welcome home, Mrs. Winchester.” Helel greets her as she comes in the house 

with a few bags from Walmart. She ignores him. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have to speak with you about something interesting we discovered at work earlier this week.

“How much earlier and how interesting?” Mary looks up at him suspiciously.

“On a trespassing call, we went to the complainants house and the one who was there knew I wasn’t Dean. He threatened to kill me if I didn’t tell him what I’d done with him. He’s a devoted supporter of Sheriff Winchester. Completely won over by him during the campaign.” Helel starts. “They run Smith and Abernathy Meats.”

“They have the best cuts, they really do. “Mary concedes, “But how did he know you weren’t Dean?”

“Because he’s a werewolf.” Helel says bluntly. Her eyes just widen at him, and not in a friendly manner.

“What did you just say?”

“He’s a werewolf. He feeds on the organs of the animals they slaughter.” He feels very uncomfortable as Mary just continues to stare at him.

“Smith and Abernathy have been in business for ten years. Are you telling me that werewolves have been living in my county for ten goddamn years?” She puts her hands on the table leaning forwards. “And you neither smote them or told me about them the second you knew about this?” Her voice is cold, which is enough to worry Mule, but Helel seems unphased.

“Actually Smith is a vampire. They have a very well made silver cage with shackles under the barn for Abernathy during the full moon. Smith lives off the blood they drain from the animals. I’d like you to come over with me and meet them. So you can see for yourself.” Helel politely and calmly invites her.

“Have you two lost your minds!?” She exclaims.

“They have been here ten years and there have been no reports of suspicious deaths, missing hearts or exsanguination and not nearly enough missing people within fifty miles to sustain a werewolf and vampire for ten years. Especially not with their schedule running the farm and shop. They really are living without killing any human beings. They have been for a good while. I think you should at least give them a chance. Everyone deserves a second chance.” Helel gives her a pleading look that she’s about three decades past falling for.

“Why would you care about a werewolf and a vampire?” Mary narrows her eyes at him.

“They were human once and didn’t choose to be turned. They’re making the best of their situation and are just trying to live their lives without harming anyone. I respect that, and think they’ve at least earned the right to live and love as long as they can under those conditions. There’s no heaven for them when they die. Just an eternity in a woods full of monsters some you’ve never even heard of. This is their only chance for true happiness.” Helel explains.

Mary doesn’t say a word. She just looks at him stone faced for several minutes.

“They’ve invited us to dinner tomorrow.” Helel informs her with far more confidence than Mule feels is warranted.

“Excuse me?”

“To reassure you of their intentions and lifestyle in person.” He continues.

“Exactly what kind of angel are you?” Mary demands.

“I’m Lucifer, Light bringer, Patron Saint of the Fallen.” Helel says softly, though Mule knows how much it hurts him to say that name. He wonders if he’ll ever get his angel to realize that it’s not a mockery at all. He brings light everywhere he goes, making everything and everyone a little brighter. It’s a name he deserves every bit as much as the one he was first given.

“You turned my sons into enemies.” Mary looks into his eyes. “You may not have meant to but you did.”

“Mom,” Mule comes forwards. “He has nothing to do with the problems Dean and I have with each other. He’s been trying to fix it. We’re just both… It’s been fucked up between us since I got home from Iraq and don’t pretend we only started resenting each other then.”

“Your brother and has always loved you and been so proud of you, Sam. He would have done anything for you. All he ever did was try and help you, take care of you. He crossed the line. I’m not saying he didn’t, but….” Mary’s not sure how to continue and is almost grateful when Sam interrupts.

“It’s not Helel’s fault, Mom. You know it isn’t. He’s been trying and trying to bring us closer together but we just can’t do it, I guess. He did his best, though. Don’t blame him for this.” Sam takes his mother’s hands. “What I did, he had not part of and if he had been there with me, it would have never happened the way it did.”Mule confesses. “All he’s ever done is be good to us. All of us. And asked for my help. I gave hi a hell of a hard time, too. But mom, Dean and I are never going to be the brothers you want us to be. When we get him back, and Michael and Helel have returned to heaven, after parole, I’m going to go to Ellen and Bobby’s and stay with them while I figure out what to do with the rest of my life. It’ll just be better if Dean and I get some distance from each other.”

“I think that would be best” Mary covers her face and takes a breath. “Alright. I’ll meet with them. But I’ll be going armed.” She points at them “To the teeth.” Mary leaves the room and heads up the stairs. Mule just gives a sigh and puts everything away. 

 

Mary waits until Zarachiel has left to do chores to give Michael the tea of his sister’s tears. There’s no response besides the automatica swallowing of it. With her son’s head cradled in her arm, she can’t help but think of the infant boy who once suckled at her breast. The little green eyes that looked at her so intently and softened at the sound of her voice. The baby peacefully drifting off to sleep in her arms. In that blissful memory she makes a slice with the tiny angel blade included in the bag. It easily releases a soft blue mist of the softest light she’s ever seen. She holds it as close as she can to the angel in her arms. In an act as much instinct as swallowing the tea, the angel takes a deep breath inhaling the wisp one, twice, three times until she starts to feel light headed. She presses the sigiled flat of the blade to the cut healing it instantly. 

Michael gives a deep sigh when she’s done. The first noise she’s heard from them, and turns his head slightly to rest against her bosom. Mary feels hope for the first time. Raphael warned her it could still take weeks, months, even to restore him to complete awareness. She just strokes his hair and sings to them her favorite song, the one that put her babies to sleep so easily so many times. Dean in her arms. Dean in his bed. Dean in his bed with little Sammy in her arms. Dean in his bed, Sam in his arms. Her babies in bunk beds. Then each other in their own rooms, finally desiring privacy. Though Sam snuck into her bed when there was thunder or a scary noise, sometimes followed by Dean. When she wasn’t there when they went to sleep, she’d often find Sam snuggled up with his brother.

How did things get to this? What did she do wrong? What did she fail to do? Things were getting so much better between them. They were talking to each other, helping each other, enjoying each other’s company. They were starting to love each other like brother’s should. Just like before when Sam came home. When he finally started to respond to his brother’s efforts. And just like before, everything just fell apart in the most terrible way possible. Only this time it’s Dean shut inside a prison, not speaking to her,  not seeing her. But this prison is his own body and he’s just unable to reach out to her.

It’s not fair. She fought so hard to keep them as safe as she could from the dangers of hell and earth. Who would have thought heaven was the real danger. But that’s unfair. Heaven saved Sam from himself, protected him and nurtured him. They saved Dean’s life. She could have lost him completely months ago. Despite what the doctor said, she knew they really didn’t expect him to survive very long. He would have died just like his father, cut down in the prime of his life by a gun in the hands of a criminal. She begged and prayed not to lose him, but it was her youngest’s prayers that were answered.

Her life was saved, just when she’d accepted that she would never see her children again or her grandchildren ever. Grandchildren she’ll only have because of divine intervention. She remembers thinking when she was heading into darkness that at least she wouldn’t outlive her children. But then she woke and before the panic of the threat to Sam set in, she felt overwhelming joy knowing she would live to see them another day.  Maybe even to see her grandchildren.

She shouldn’t complain. She would never have traded all of that just to avoid this. She knows Dean wouldn’t either. But it hurts so much to see him like this. It hurts to know what preceded this, that her son had his choices stripped away from him until it was death or this. And by his own brother. The little brother he tried so hard to love and protect no matter what, no matter how much Sam hurt him or rejected him. That Sam could do that to him, just breaks her heart into tiny pieces.

Dean acted foolishly. She can’t deny that. He crossed the line, but it was all because he loves his brother and was trying to protect him, save him from himself. Sam acted out of anger and spite. It should make a difference that in the grand view of things, that Sam was right. Right in what he believed, right in what he was trying to do. Maybe he was even justified in how he did it. But it doesn’t make a difference at all.

She’s just so angry. Angry at him for what he did. Angry at the Nightingale for decieving Dean especially angry at the fact that she did so before the treaty. She’s upset with Dean for falling for her lies, especially since he knew who she was. But she can’t be angry because that’s what the nightingale does and has done since humanity began. If Dean fell victim to her lies and manipulations, he’s not the first and certainly won’t be the last. She’s angry because neither one of them came to her and confided in her when these angels came to them.  Not one of them. She’s angry with Helel for not trusting her either.

The only person she can’t be angry with is the angel before her, trapping her son in his body. It’s not his fault, how everything came about. He was betrayed every bit as much as Dean was. He suffered in solitude for thousands of years, breaking him so thoroughly that she can believe he wouldn’t have lasted much longer. She can’t blame him for taking the shelter offered to him when he used what little strength he had left to escape his wrongful imprisonment. It’s not his fault. If he’s aware of the tears she’s shed, he should know that.

So she tells him. She tells him everything and anything she can think of mostly because she just can’t let herself stop and think about it anymore. She tells him how much his brother loves him. How hard he’s worked to save him. And the tears he shed when it looked as if it could never happen for at least a thousand more years. She doesn’t tell him about Raphael’s help, though she wants to. Unfortunately, she promised.

She tells him about all the angels in heaven sending their tears in hopes it can help bring him back to them. She tells them she’s here for them that she prays for them, sending her pleas to a god she deemed uncaring and cruel, that they’ll both be okay. She doesn’t say how much she prays for her son back. That he’ll be able to see the birth of the children he’s wanted for so very long, even if he claimed differently. It would only hurt them both, Dean would feel guilty for being unable to come forwards and she hopes that Michael is the kind who would feel badly about the situation as well. 


	37. A Light in the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael wakes and is unhappy with what she discovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My boyfreind broke up with me and my son ran away from his father's. Don't worry he's home and safe. So it's been a difficult week for me. I had been keeping several chapters ahead of what I'm putting up but this has closed the gap and I'm a little behind. I will still keep writing and posting but there might be a few days between sometimes.

“Hey Jude. Don’t be a fool. Take a sad song. And make it better. The minute you 

let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.”The song accompanies a feeling of fullness, a touch of strength. It feels familiar. She wants to reach for it but can’t. The song fades away leaving only a heaviness that tugs at her memory.

When she slips into nothingness, a chill brings her back to beautiful sounds that 

float through her with loving whispers she can’t quite understand. It pulls at her but she can’t reach it either. It just feels more and more urgent, more desperate for her to reach it, She wants to hear more of it. Each time it lasts a little longer, sounds a little louder and gets a little clearer.

Over and over again the same strange song resonates with her very being. She 

feels fuller, stronger, and the light in the darkness grows and grows until a strange spattering of color and light fills her view. She can finally recognize the heaviness weighing her down. She’s in a vessel. All of a sudden sensations start to make sense the pressure around her reigning her in, not that there’s all that much of her left.

She can feel fingers, legs, toes, arms, head, lips, eyes, and apparently this time her vessel is male. Someone’s holding her heas in their arm, cradles against their chest. She manages to open her eyes enough to see a small blade that belonged one of the fledglings who died before they could grow. The pain that tears through her at the sight of it blurs the sights in front of her. But it looks as if the person takes it to their arm and cuts into their very soul. It brings the wound to her lips where despite his horror she takes it in. No… no, this isn’t supposed to be happening. This is not what humanity is for. She tries to struggle, but the rest of her won’t quite respond. This time the human doesn’t start singing.

“It’s alright. I’m here. Everything will be alright. I promise.” The human’s voice calms and soothes her, though she’s not sure why there’s a feeling of comfort filling her as they stroke her hair, her cheek. When they start to sing to her again she slides into nothingness before the first verse is over, but this time, it’s the darkness that greets her.

The darkness reaches out to her. It’s very presence is painful and suffocating, though it’s yet to even touch her.  She’s filled with terror and can’t move. She can’t feel her father anywhere, or her sisters or brothers, nothing. There’s nothing but darkness and pain. She tries to flee but there are bars in her way. In every direction bars she can’t see, only feel.

She fights against them attacking them with everything she has but it just gets smaller and smaller until she’s curled in a ball, wings around her. She feels her wings crack and break as the cage cuts into her very being. It seals away her light, traps her inside herself. She wants to scream but she can’t. She just feels herself fading away. The next time she’s aware of her vessel, she finds she can move her fingers and limbs but not by much. She tries to resist being fed pieces of the human soul but all she can manage is the tensing of muscles and a small noise. 

“Shhh… it’s alright. You’re safe here, Michael. I’m just fine as well. So don’t you worry. Just work on getting stronger, okay?  Your brother has been so worried about you. He’d be with you every second if he could. But my son, your vessel, needs his mother and wife sometimes, too. Just… get well. Let me make you well. I’m here for both of you,” the mother  holds Michael closer, resting her cheek against the angel’s forehead. She can feel the woman’s tears fall against her skin.

Her son… he’s trapped inside, just as she is. That’s why she’s doing this. To get her son back. It makes her feel a little better about the woman gifting her pieces of her soul. Helel would never let the woman do something that would cause her permanent harm. When the now familiar song begins this time, she can hear the peace and love that underlays the simple tune. It gives it a richness and warmth that wraps around her entire being like the memory of her father’s embrace.  

When the mother is gone the one who must be the wife returns and lays her head on the vessels chest.  She speaks about how the babies are doing. How exhausted she is. The frustration with her mother and not being able to hunt. How she feels so helpless knowing there are people out there dying that she could be saving right now. How she can’t even save him. It’s her pleas to Michael to give her husband back to her that breaks the angel’s heart. Try as she might,  she can’t even move much less find her vessel and pull him in front. In truth Michael wants to give him back to his family.

All she wants to do is go home to her brother, the one who still loves her and always has. For the first time she can truly feel his presence. The chill is just his worry and distress. There’s as much love coming her way she felt from the voice of her vessel’s mother, if not more.

Michael manages to open her eyes again and sees a tall, handsome young man picking up a musical instrument that she’s never seen before.  The sounds that come out of it are familiar and breathtaking. She’s missed her brother’s voice so much. When he begins to sing to her, she almost manages a smile.

“Helel.”The sound that manages to pass her lips is barely audible, but her brother stops, actually dropping the instrument on the ground. 

“Mitcha,” Helel gives a half smile as he grabs her hand. A tear starts to fall down his cheek. It takes everything she has to reach up and wipe it from his cheek. The cold white tear tumbles down her hand to the bedsheets,but she manages to put her arm around her little brother’s neck as he lays his head on her chest. She can feel his wings covering her and surely as she feels his arms embracing her. She never thought she’d see him again. It was so long, so very long and everything was just melting away.

“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.” Helel sounds as if he wants to cry some more. And he’s holding on so tightly. “Heaven just wasn’t Heaven without you.”

“I missed you, too.” Is the last thing she can manage before falling back into herself into the nightmares.

When she’s pulled out of them again, she feels briefly like she’s falling, landing with a thud, though several seconds after she’s stopped. She opens her eyes and doesn’t see anyone.  Neither does she feel anyone holding her or beside her. She feels so much stronger this time. She can move her limbs, her eyelids are no longer heavy and everything sees is so clear. She manages to sit up and looks down as she feels the small blade under her hand. As she looks around, she can see the mother collapsed on the floor by the side of the bed. The cut on her wrist is only partially healed with blood flowing to the floor. 

With a distinct lack of gracefulness, Michael stumbles out of bed. He kneels down beside her and takes hold of her arm, healing the injury. She still doesn’t move, so Michael lifts her up and places her on the bed in Michael’s place The mother seems generally healthy, but she’s been sacrificing pieces of her soul to help the angel gain back her strength.  Did she lose too much? Michael has no real choice but to check. The pained cry the mother lets out makes Michael wince slightly as she reaches inside to feel the soul. There’s enough left for her to recover, provided the woman rests for a good while.

When Michael starts to take her arm out from under the woman, she realized that there’s something strapped to the woman’s back. Something that would most likely be uncomfortable in this position. She has to take off the human’s shirt to remove the sheath strapped to her back, to let her rest comfortably. It’s a little more difficult to get her shirt back on her. When Michael goes to put the weapon on the dresser beside them, she notices the handle. It’s an angel’s blade. Curious, she draws it out.

This… this is Gabrielle’s blade. She can’t help but stare at it.  What could it 

possibly be doing here? The last she remembers it was locked in the armory after she captured Gabriel. Before Raphael… She doesn’t want to think about it, her last moments in heaven. When her baby brother back at her side at last after so many years. But she went to take Gabrielle and put her in the cage, Raphael grabbed the wrist of the hand holding their sister. He sent intense pain shooting through her being so much so that she lost her grip on Gabrielle. Then he shoved her. Her little Raphael, her sweet, caring, gentle, loving, gentle Raphael who once loved her more than anything, shoved her into the cage. The smiling fledgeling who adored her, clung to her, gave her his first little smile, said her name as his first word, clung to her, looked at her with such love and adoration, pushed her into that place of torment and unbearable solitude, cut off from everyone and everything for so so long.

No. No it wasn’t him. Not really. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t. She could see it in his face, the realization of what he’d done in that split second before she was lost to it. He didn’t even bother to pull back his hand. She knew. In that moment she knew that she could have pulled him in with her, taking him away from Gabrielle’s corrupting influence, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t do it. The last thing she saw was Gabrielle pulling Raphael away. Stealing him away from her once more, just like the first time.

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t. Gabrielle had him for so long. She twisted Raphael’s tender loving nature, using his compassion and empathy to manipulate and entrap him into unspeakable blasphemy. She tainted him with her darkness, enslaving him, seducing him, manipulating him into staying by her side until Helel finally rescued him from her.

Raphael was almost dead inside when he finally came back home to Michael. Even so he stood by her side once more, clinging to her as she tried to comfort him and reassure him that he was home and safe and all was forgiven. But she should have known that Gabrielle still had a hold on him, when she found that reckless vile invader with him when that little devil and her angels dared to attack heaven. 

Michael knew, she just knew that Raphael was the first thing Gabrielle would go for, whatever her purpose. And sure enough, there she was embracing the unresponsive angel, kissing him, telling him she loved him and that she’d come to save him. As if he needed saving from Heaven! She saw the struggle on his face when he put his arms around Gabrielle and buried his face in her neck. It should have let Michael know better than to make him be present for Gabrielle’s punishment.

But that evil twisted angel had done so much damage that Michael could only feel the rage bailing with in her. The hate the anger the hurt the pain and she kept her baby brother at her side to show that despicable angel that he wasn’t hers anymore. But he was. Her claws had gotten into him so deeply and Raphael was still to weak to defend himself against her wiles. Raphael was lost to heaven, to Michael claimed by hell and that evil, twisted beats she once called sister.

But the pain remains. Maybe Gabrielle destroyed him tearing his goodness into  pieces, but the pieces that remained were still Raphael and her precious little fledgling betrayed her. She just sits on the floor, curled into a ball, trying to keep her self in check, but the effort leaves her shaking. She doesn’t know how long. Finally she can feel the mother’s arms around her. The woman shushes her and gently rubs her back, telling her everything is alright. Michael holds onto her in return and eventually calms down.

 

She next wakes to the woman being gently lifted from his side by Helel.

“I’ll be right back, Mitcha. I’m just going to take her home and put her to bed.”

“She was feeding me pieces of her soul. I think she gave a little too much today.” Michael slowly tries to get into a more dignified position. “I checked, she has enough left to recover.”

“I’ll have Ariel come down to tend to her and then see to you.” Helel says a little haltingly.

“Okay.” Michael rests her head against the wall and waits for him to return.

“Can you stand?” Helel crouches down in front of her. 

“Yes.” But she takes her brother’s hand anyways and lets him help her up.

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t know.” Michael looks out the window. “Everything looks so different.” She puts a hand to the window pane. “What’s this?”

“Glass. They make it from sand. Oh, and guess what they managed to do? They harnessed electricity.  All on their own. You should see the advances in plumbing. And computers and this thing called the internet, though not all of it. A lot of it is very disturbing, so you have to be careful how you phrase what you’re looking for. It’s absolutely incredible. Did you know they built a ship powered by explosions that takes them to the moon.  They even created moving creatures out of metal and electricity that they control with radio waves and sent one to Mars, the one on the other side of earth than the morning star.”  
“And… and how long as it been?” Michael feels a little unsettled.

“About two thousand years. The roman empire has long since fallen.” Helel stops and pulls Michael into a tight hug. “ I know it was longer in there…”

“I lost count around two hundred thousand.”  Michael holds onto his brother just as tightly. The doubt that she’s truly out wells up. That this isn’t just another hallucination that will crumble under her fingers. 

“How is she?” Michael can hear Helel ask as another angel enters the room.

“She’s resting. Her soul has been reduced to slightly over half it’s size and she seems to have some mild overexposure to angelic grace. That was easily repaired. As for her soul, she’ll just need to rest her body and mind for a week at least. She shouldn’t get out of bed for at least three days except to take care of personal needs.  I’m not sure what could have happened, so if either of you have any idea.”

“She’s been feeding pieces of her soul to Michael.” Helel says oddly. 

“I don’t know why… she always seemed to know when to stop.” Michael feels a bit awkward admitting it. 

“And why did you let her do that?” Helel asks slowly. “I’m not angry or anything, I’m just a little surprised you’d let her do that.”

“I couldn’t exactly stop her.” Michael admits, though it feels as if she’s just making excuses.  “Besides she was just trying to get her son back. I could refuse for myself, but not for him. Why would she be so reckless as to give so much today?” she frowns. Helel just looks away a moment before looking back.

“Your vessel’s wife went into labor last night.” Helel says quietly. “She gave birth to MaryEllen Wilhemina and Robert John Winchester at three twenty seven and three thirty one this afternoon.”

“He must be truly be a righteous man to offer himself to me at a time like this. I’ll return to heaven as soon as I can and leave him to his family.” Michael puts a hand to her chest.

“He is definitely a righteous man. Devoted to God, his family, and a protector of humanity.” Helel says cautiously, gently leads her over to sit on the bed. “But you need to take your time to recover. You won’t do anybody any good trying to rush it. Can you let Ariel take a look at you?”

“Of course.” Michael sits still. “How is everything in heaven?”

“Everyone misses you terribly and is overjoyed you’ll be coming home soon.” Helel smiles at her.

“Yes, thank you, but that’s not what I’m asking.” Michael clarifies, feeling more than a little irritated at the evasive answer. Obviously there’s something he doesn’t want to tell her yet. She knew it’d be too much for him to handle alone. 

“Everything is actually running pretty smoothly.  Everyone’s a bit excited and anxious for you return, but it’s nothing too disruptive.” Helel reassures her. Obviously other things have been let slide. 

“What about the nephilim issue? Has the problem been successfully dealt with?”

“Yes.” Helel’s face falls a little as he says this.

“ I know that must have been hard on you.” Michael reaches up to her brother’s face. “But it had to be done. I’ll take over that task once I’m back home.” She promises. 

“No, you’ll need a lot of rest to regain your strength first.” Helel chides her. “I have it well in hand. I promise.”

“And our fallen brethren?” She asks hoping Helel has been able to step up to the task of protecting humanity from those angels that abandoned heaven and went after Gabrielle.

“I’m happy to say that I’ve successfully brought a thousand three hundred and fourty six of our wayward angels back into the fold.” Helel announces proudly.

“You what?!” Michael gives him an astonished look, and one that is not the least happy. “You let those traitors back into heaven?!”

“I gave our contrite and homesick brothers and sisters the forgiveness their hearts were crying out for.” Hele sounds a bit defensive, as of course he would doing something this incredibly foolish and irresponsible!

“It’s humanity we’re to guard and protect Helel! Not those who betrayed us all, abandoned us for a life of selfish hedonism. They killed their own siblings!”

“So have we, Michael.” Helel remains calm, which always irritates the hell out of Michael. “The rules have changed. Don’t you remember? Forgiveness and mercy are for everyone now. And I won’t deny it to our little brothers and siblings.”

“HUMANITY is the priority! It always has been. While you’ve been wasting your time on our brothers how many of our charges have been killed or corrupted by the ones you left unchecked?” 

“Less than would have. Those angels who’ve returned to us are some of my best angels at helping save humanity from themselves.  Their life isn’t easy, but they have a purpose. For all their faults, they love humanity and have a level of compassion and understanding of the human condition that most of us lack.” Helel defends his decision.

“They deserve punishment for their betrayal, not a warm welcome and an important task. They deserve DEATH!” Michael eyes flash in a way that frightens Ariel.

“If they didn’t, then it wouldn’t be forgiveness and mercy, would it?” Helel says with more of his infuriating gentleness.

“Our responsibility is to MANKIND We’re to destroy the wolves preying on our flock, not take them in!!” Michael grabs Helel’s shirt and pulls him down til they’re face to face. “You have never had your priorities in order!  We are to love, serve and protect our father’s greatest creation and destroy everything that threatens them! Everything! Do you understand me?” Helel just nods. “Now get out of my sight.”


	38. Compassion Bourne of Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mule comforts Helel  
>  Ariel confesses her crimes  
> Michael isn't as eager to put her siblings to death as she thinks she is.

“Are you okay?” Mule asks gently as Helel just sits down on his bed.

“She… Michael… she doesn’t talk that way. She doesn’t talk to me that way. I …. Yes, I know she’d be irritated, but not. She’s not that blood thirsty. Not really.” Helel stares at the floor a few feet away trying to collect himself.

“Maybe not before the cage. I’d bet he’s feeling a lost less forgiving.” Mule gently points out. 

Helel just remains quiet at this. Mule doesn’t understand. When they fight and 

start to get angry, they each just walk away to calm down. They don’t banish the other person to leave their sight.  It doesn’t start out like that either. It’s like she went straight to furious. She’s always had a temper but not like that.

“I don’t know what to do.” Helel doesn’t know why it’s so easy to say this to Mule when in any other situations with any other person he’d be pretending he was on top of things until he believed it himself. At least until he was alone again. “Why don’t I know what to do? It’s Michael, she’s my sister. We were once the only two created beings in all of existence. I know her better than any other angel alive. She hated the thought of having to kill our siblings even just to save others. She was so distraught when the little war was over. He hated what we all had to do. She would have been irritated that my energy was spent trying to bring them back to heaven instead of just on protecting humanity. But really she would have been thrilled that I brought back so many, even if she couldn’t let herself show it with more than a small smile to herself when she thinks no one’s looking. She wouldn’t…. Banish me from her sight. It’s not her. It’s not.”

“Come inside, talk to me.” Mule gently urges as the angel clearly needs a hug. Helel lays down and covers his eyes with his arm. When he retreats inside with Mule, his vessel has managed to make the inside space a copy of the hammock in the forest. Only this time they’re lying side by side so Helel can rest his head against Mule’s chest, and let his vessel hold onto him. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Michael’s strong and resilient. She was supposed to be alright. Maybe weaker and upset and desperate, but when she got out she would see me and be so happy and grateful and maybe cry on my shoulder. She’d never want to leave my side ever again, at least for a while. She’d have more appreciation for siblings Together we’d work to win back our lost ones. Together we’d better help humanity, sending out warriors down to fight monsters, assist hunter. Our healers would go down to aid and inspire their healers. We could do all the things we couldn’t do without each other, all the things we couldn’t do when father was here. Not that he would have objected but we were trapped by the big picture. We’d be together again and it wouldn’t be easy, but everything would be alright. That’s how it was going to be when I finally got her back.”

“I don’t think you really understood what being trapped in the cage really meant. I know you felt alone, but you weren’t. I know you felt a little trapped and limited, but you weren’t. Even I can’t know how it really was, but I have a bit of a clue.” Mule states gently, neither chiding nor insulting or rebuking him in any way. 

Helel finds this kind of odd since he’s being told he doesn’t know shit about what 

Michael’s been through. Mule never really talked about being in solitary, though. Helel assumed that was because compared to the other things that he did talk about, it was nothing but an inconvenience. After all the thought of getting time to himself, free of the chorus and cacophany of voices, from both heaven and earth alike, the requests, the chores the duties, sounds more like a reward than torture. Especially since what Mule had waiting outside for him was people wanting to fight or murder him and those who weren’t were all criminals. 

He’d assumed it was just the lack of drugs that made it hard to endure. He 

thought that the confinement and inability to really spread her wings and move would be the worst part for Michael. But would it make his big sister desperate enough to fight for freedom until she was broken so very thoroughly outside and maybe even inside as well, maybe that’s not the truth. Maybe like addiction, or at least the craving for it, you don’t really understand unless you’ve been there.  

Mule had assured him that it was just his body that was craving it, but it wasn’t. He knows it wasn’t. Because when he looked at it, he didn’t see pleasure or feeling okay, he saw escape. Escape from his life, his pain, his duties, his burdens, his sorrows, his life. Things he’d never before been able to admit to himself that he wanted, needed, and desperately craved. The things he so greedily took advantage of with Mule. He didn’t have to stay for most of it. He could have gone in and out when action was needed. He didn’t need to do research there. He could have been up in heaven but every minute of partial freedom, quiet and near solitude he could take, he did. Yes his body reacted and urged and pushed, but it was the promise of escape that was truly, truly unbearable.

“In solitary.” Mule finally starts to speak. “Time just stops having meaning. Hours felt like days, minutes like hours. You long for the sight and sound of another human being so badly you would sometimes start to hallucinate them, even to the point of feeling people touching him where there were no pieces to touch. It was like pieces of a dream invading reality, at first startling, then somehow you just accepted it.  I tried to fight that by marking meals on the wall with my blood. I slept a lot. I exercised. I’d exercise until I dropped just to get more sleep and save myself more and more time. Sometimes I was slipped a book. That was what saved me most of the time, having the book to read, to analyze, to philosophise about, to concentrate about.

“But I still became an emotional wreck. Sometimes I’d cry. Sometimes I’d scream. Sometimes when the time given me grew longer and longer, it felt like I’d never really been anywhere else. The only thing that kept me from trying to break out was the knowledge that I needed to serve my time and do it right if I ever wanted to have even a hope of making things right with my mother. But I won’t deny it didn’t affect me more. I wanted opioids more than ever by the end. Even with them, my temper grew shorter. I would almost completely lose control when I fought. Not to the point of killing anyone, but always going to far when I was attacked. That just ended up getting me sent back into solitary.

“That last one, when I was there for six weeks…” Mule trails off. “Michael didn’t even have as much as I did. No way to track time, no book, nothing from the outside world even if it’s only the opening of the meal slot. She didn’t know it would end or when. She had no idea what would be waiting for her when she got out. She was in there with nothing except the hope that someone would save her, either you or your father and that would be difficult to maintain under better circumstances that lasted a few thousand years. She’s not going to be the same angel that went in there, Helel. She’s just not.” Mule sounds so distant, Helel gives him a squeeze to remind him he’s there.

But Helel doesn’t say anything. The idea of Michael no longer being Michael is just unthinkable. Sure she’ll be a little damaged, but Michael is the strongest angel she’s ever known. Nothing and no one could ever hope to stand against her. Powerful, protective, loving, ferocious, and wise. Emotional but clearly in control even if you can see the color of her flames betraying her inner self. Always striving to be rational and reasonable and deny her own desires in order to do what’s right. A little too much in Helel’s opinion, but that’s what he was for to bring out her heart when she was trapped in her head. She was only ever ruled by her heart when it came to him and Raphael.

If she’s broken, she was broken before she went in. Her favorite child’s absolute betrayal of her is what destroyed her if anything did. He should have killed that creature when he had the chance. For the life of him, Helel has no idea why he hasn’t. For his sister’s sake most likely. But all it’s done is kept Gabriel from giving the mark to Helel where it belonged. It let her fall further and further into darkness and corruption, further and further from salvation. 

It let their poor wounded, poisoned little sister lead Raphael away from his love 

for Michael. As little use as Helel had for the brat, the angel she knew would have never done what he did to Michael. After all whenever he rescued one of the fallen from one of heaven’s angel, all he’d do is banish the angel to the garden and bring his sibling back to hell. The thought of him subjecting Michael to that sort of torture is unthinkable.

“However much she’s hurting, she’s still Mitcha. And I won’t give up on her any more than I will Gabrielle. No matter how damaged or broken or difficult she’s become, I will save her and cleanse her of her pain, I swear it on the most high.”

“I never thought you would.” Mule can’t help but smile. The fact that Helel’s being so determinedly dramatic means he’s starting to feel better. “I just wanted you to understand at least a small degree to what she went through. Though I know my experience was nothing compared to hers.”

“I understand, thank you for sharing your experience of me.”

“Just be the real you with her, and remember she needs just as much compassion, patience and understanding as any tortured fallen soul you’ve had to save. And when it gets too much to bear, I’ll be here for you to come and unload on.” Mule rests his cheek against Helel’s head.

“I might be in over my head with this one. I mean, part of the reason it works is because I’m not so attached to them. “ Helel confesses, “But this is Mitcha. I don’t know if I’ll be able to be as objective as I should be. Maybe she’ll see through me as easily as you did.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be as condescending and not quite so full of yourself as you were with me. But I’ll always be here. You’ll always have me and anything I can do for you. Whatever you need from me, it could never be enough to repay you for what you’ve done for me and my family.” Mule reminds his angel who seems to be forgetting who he is and what he’s capable of.

“Well, you are my vessel. I take good care of my things. Ow.” Helel laughs as Mule punches him in the back.

“I ‘thing’ you, you brat.”

 

Michael slowly take a breath, her face in her hands. She shouldn’t have been so harsh with him. It was honestly to be expected he’d do something like this. It was her own desperate desire to have Raphael back home likely encouraged that kind of thinking. Though given what happened because of that selfish and thoughtless desire, she’d hoped it wouldn’t stick. She’d believed that there would be no real issue with their father about Raphael coming back and there wasn’t. After all Raphael left not for himself, but to make sure their little sister didn’t break further and do something even more terrible, like kill herself or remove the mark entirely.

But It’s not like he hadn’t been pleading for a way to bring back their fallen brothers and sisters since they first started leaving. Since Gabrielle was cast out, he’d been trying to find a way to save her and bring her twisted self back into harmony. He even begged and argued with their father, leaving him crying in his room afterwards. It was often only Michael that could calm his down enough to go apologize and make up with their father, though sometimes their father went to him first.

The fact that he was just as opposed to the slaying of the nephilim and even 

managed to convince their father to give them a chance to prove themselves a potential boon and bridge between heaven and mankind. They didn’t need to take vessels after all so it would reduce the need for humans to sacrifice the lives they worked so hard to create for themselves. It all went so wrong, and the purge, though he knew it was necessary, made him dispair so greatly that only their father could comfort him.

She should be proud of him for doing what needed to be done in her absence. She should have praised him, not berated him for doing what she knew he had always wanted to do so desperately as soon there was any possible way to excuse it.That’s who he is after all. The Patron Saint of the Fallen. His compassion, his understanding and his unconditional love for all of their siblings (except perhaps for Raphael) is part of what Michael’s always loved about him.

“Michael.” Ariel calls her gently.

“Yes?” She doesn’t take her hands from her face.   
“You’re grace is much improved. It’s returned to a lever where it can begin to 

replenish itself. I’m not confident you’re at a place where you can safely return to heaven yet. I wouldn’t recommend it until you’ve regained control of your grace while still in your vessel. I’m afraid your wings have not healed as quickly as I hoped. There are barely any feathers left and very few have even started to grow back. At this rate it may take years before you’re able to use them again.” She confesses. Michael doesn’t react to this any. With Michael stillness is never a good thing. “All you’ll need now is to continue drinking your tea and resting as much as you can. Even letting your vessel take control of his body, you’ll continue to recover. Possibly faster.”

“I see.” Michael replies. “Tell me, Ariel. How has heaven been under my brother’s rule?” Ariel starts to tremble, but Michael’s been hearing her feathers’ nervous rustling in the veil since he and Helel fought. 

“I… I’m a little bit biased, sir.” You’d need someone more neutral.” She looks down at her hands.

“Why are you biased?” Michael prods. From the hitch in her breath it’s clearly a question she wishes she hadn’t been asked.

“Because… because he forgave me and showed me mercy, welcoming me home with open arms when I fell.” She closes her eyes, trembling even harder. “If… if I’m to die, please allow me to exit my vessel first. She doesn’t deserve to die with me.”Ariel kneels down in front of her, her head shamefully bowed. Michael doesn’t know what to say. The thought of Ariel rejecting heaven, abandoning her brother’s and sisters. It’s unthinkable. She was one of the most loyal loving dedicated angels Michael had ever known.

“I… have no intention of overturning my brother’s decisions. Nor do I have the authority. He was the sole arbiter of justice in heaven at the time and still is and always shall be. Should we find ourselves at war, that is another matter entirely and a second defection will not be without consequence.” Michael takes a breath to steady herself.

“Yes, sir.” Ariel replies, not sounding nearly as relieved as she should be. Neither does she leave. “ I didn’t… I didn’t defect, though. I wasn’t chosing those two over you and Helel. It wasn’t anything like that. It’s just, there were these plagues and we were told to stay away until pestilence was defeated or had slipped back into the depths of the earth for the next thousand years. It was just a year, less really, but do you know the kind of absolute devestation a virulent plague can wreak on a population in even a few months if left unchecked? How many people would have died? I couldn’t… I couldn’t just stay in heaven and do nothing. You see? I couldn’t… what good is research and learning if it’s never put into practice.” Michael almost smiles at this. 

“That’s not a fall. That’s disobeying Helel’s orders in order to attempt to follow what you thought was truly god’s will. And protecting, loving, and saving humanity was definitely our father’s will. I’m surprised Helel refused to let you go down.”

“When you were gone… He became greatly concerned about putting us a uneccesary risk. Especial after he failed so spectacularly at getting Death’s ring. He tends to be extra over protective of us the more upset he is. Don’t tell him we know this. He thinks he’s been able to hide it from us.” Ariel begs quietly. Michael gives a small smile. Without Michael to fuss and cling to behind closed doors, it makes sense he’d want to keep the others close. “I was going to come back once I’d gotten things under control. Hopefully before he noticed. He was after another horseman at the time. But I… I fell in love.”

“I see.” Michael does in fact see. That’s a very common reason for an angel to fall. Usually from those garrisons set to watch over the earth. Or the gregori. Though it’s hardly a sixth of the reasons angels abandoned heaven. That’s why nephilim were such a problem. If it had only been those angels that let themselves behave selfishly in their love and desire for a human, it wouldn’t have been. But there were plenty of them who were unrepentant hedonists not caring what devastation they left in their wake. They did the most damage, created the most nephilim. “I’m very sorry. You of all angels should know why that is forbidden.” He gently chides her.

“That… wasn’t actually an issue in our case.” Ariel blushes. “And he wasn’t human, exactly. He was once, but… it was a lie and I almost let myself do something terrible. The harm I might have done. What it nearly cost us all from my foolishness in falling in love with what he only pretended to be. If I could take it back..” She clenches her hands.

“Ariel.” Michael takes her by the arms and gently has her rise to her feet. “I feel exactly the same way.” If she expected anything it was not that the eldest of archangels would so tenderly, compassionately embrace her. “Love… it can blind you. You don’t see things you would have, should have. You hear what you want to hear, whether they’re deceiving you or you’re deceiving yourself.”

“You don’t understand! I started a war!” Ariel just starts bawling in Michael’s shoulder now.

“So did I.” Michael just keeps holding her, counting the tears that clink on the floor. “I forgive you, Ariel. I only hope that the both of us are a little wiser from it. Now tell me about this war. I’m curious as to how it went with Helel as commander.”

“I don’t know much, only how it started. All three of your siblings were on earth, fighting the horsemen. Raphael fought pestilence. Helel fought Famine and much to my suprise Ga... the Nightingale took on War and succeeded in destroying ever attempt of his at incite conflict. That was so bizarre, everyone was talking about it. It was much harder to even find the horsemen back then. So I took advantage and went down to try and save as many lives as I could before I had to return to Heaven.

“I wasn’t prepared for what I found. Human sacrifice, still beating hearts pulled from their chests. Cannibalism of the corpses. It was at a scale I’d never seen if only because of my own sheltered life in heaven. What was worse for humanity as a whole, while their people were ill and dying around them, They took the best, most healthiest, strongest people left and killed them to appease and beseech gods that did little to nothing but fight amongst each other. 

“Each metropolitan area I went to had a different more difficult plague to deal with. Sometimes two. It took so long for me to find and teach all their healers a cure. I tried so hard to use my grace to heal the children at least, but they would just catch it all over again. In order to convince the healers to take the recipe, I told them it was a gift from the greatest, kindest, most knowledgeable of all gods. A surprising amount credited the one called Quetzalcoatl.

“It shouldn’t have been a surprise when he came looking for me. But he did and.. And since apparently he was considered the greatest, kindest, most knowledgeable of all gods, I tried asking for his help in more quickly finding and distributing the cures for the new plagues. And he did. Without hesitation. I found him charming, intelligent, and genuinely caring about his people. But it wasn’t until I found out that the only sacrifice he demanded from his followers was a reasonable amount of blood drawn from those who worshipped or beseeched him done by their own hands. And I began to let my guard down enough so that I began to like him, even love him as the good and virtuous man I knew made the god before me. 

“It was so stupid. I should have known better, but we went to each large city and up and down the southern continent and the land bridging it to the northern one. In all that time, he won me over completely. My vessel was enthusiastic about it and begged me to engage as fully in the romance as I desired with surprising vehemence. By that time Helel had returned and realized I had gone, I was deeply and madly in love. No one had reported my absence because I told them I was going and might not be back for a while.  Everyone assumed I had permission. I was the head healer so I didn’t have to convince anyone above me. I simply ignored his summons. 

“She sent Raziel, one of my batchmates to find me. Which he did, unfortunately,  catching me in a… blasphemous state. He did his best to convince me to return, but I didn’t care. I felt I’d rather throw everything else away just to stay on earth loving him and healing humanity to my heart’s content. Finally he gave up and left, or so I thought. He didn’t trust Quetzalcoatl, more than reasonably so and was convinced I’d been deceived and taken advantage of. So he stayed waiting for the chance to prove to me what that man really was and take me home. It was the right thing for him to do.

“Apparently, Quetzalcoatl was actually just trying to gather information from me about us and our religion, the extent of our involvement with humanity and whatever he could. Making me love him was just his way of getting past my defenses. He told me about his family and I told him about mine. But while I had abandoned them for him, I’d promised myself I’d never let myself disclosing pertinent information about them to anyone. 

“But when he was unsatisfied with what I would tell him and what I wouldn’t. He claimed I didn’t really love him, that I didn’t trust him. That he’d told me everything I’d ever asked of him and more and that I wouldn’t was proof I didn’t truly care about him. Finally he told me to leave if I was going to treat him that way. I considered giving in when I was at the door. But I saw Raziel in the yard, waiting for me beseeching me to come home, inviting me with open arms. That was love, a better love, purer, limitless, and unconditional and I walked out. 

“That’s when I met Itztlacoliuhqui. Raziel and I almost didn’t survive it. He took us  and our blades and decided to use a much less gentle approach to getting the information Quetzalcoatl wasted. I don’t know how long it was but I remember hearing the flutter of wings in the distance, as if all of heaven was coming down to rescue us. The next thing I knew I was home, with my remaining wounds being tended to by Helel himself. He embraced and forgave me just like you did and welcomed me back as if I had never betrayed them in the first place. Entire pantheons were wiped out in the attack, every single one that would not hand over the gods that abused us. Apparently Quetzalcoatl was a member of many religions in the area. When the spanish came over later, the diseases they brought over devastated the remaining population. That’s all I know about the War of the Winged Serpent. I can’t bring myself to look into it more. It was hard enough familiarizing myself with the BiCUD treaty.”

“I understand. Go home, compose yourself, taking all the time you need.”  Michael lets go of her, resting her hand on the little angel’s shoulder. “Though I have to say, you did much better than Sampson.” Ariel gives a small smile recognizing the attempt for what it is, and returns to heaven as ordered.


	39. Stress Relief

The librarian informed/ warned Helel that Michael had requested everything they had about both the War of the Winged Serpent, and the fallen angels, Helel panicked  She had asked for all fallen angels since she’d been away from heaven, their crimes, and which fallen angels from any time period were allowed to return and their current records. Apparently Nathanel, the librarian’s assistant, knew about this request as well. This was a problem because he was friends with Rahab and he’d let her know. She was friends with other previously fallen angels who were friends with others and thus in almost an instant every once fallen angel would all know. Which would lead to mass panic, at least more so than there already was among t he previously fallen at the thought of Michael’s return. Likely meaning that hundreds of despairing terrified angels thinking of choosing between suicide or fleeing for their lives and abandoning heaven once again. 

This was explained to Mule at incredible speed that he’s not sure how he understood. It ended with an apology for leaving so abruptly from Helel as the angel took off to do damage control in heaven. Apparently Michael is the strict parent. It could just be Helel being overdramatic in his own overwhelming stress. He’s definitely being dramatic about it, even if it is true, but at least that would mean he’s halfway back to coping. Helel’s moments of overwhelmed silence earlier was what worried Mule the most.  

Of course, now Mule has a few questions about the ‘War of the Winged Serpent’. Mostly why Helel’s so panicked about Michael knowing about it, and yet didn’t seem to consider it necessary to mention while making his confession to Mule. Of course, the confession was directly related to the situation and it’s been thousands of years. It’s possible it just hadn’t come up yet. Like many of Mule’s missions haven’t come up yet. He can think of several right now that he’d feel a little reluctant about talking to Helel about, and will never ever under pain of death tell his mother about even if he could. But honestly he just hadn’t thought about them until right this moment more than a glancing thought or nightmare or a brief flashback from random things. Like a scent of a flower in the grocery store sending him crouching behind an empty register with a pack of lighters and a tin of altoids for all of ten minutes, which he snapped out of when someone got Bree and he heard her laugh.

Apparently someone had explained the situation to her when she came looking for him, sounding terrified, and she found the description incredibly amusing. He actually did as well when she apologized later, giving the imitation she did of a terrified woman telling security personnel that the man who pulled her down to the floor when she went to get a mars bar from the candy rack, covered her mouth with one hand, opened the can of altoids with the other, then shoved three in her mouth and pushed her back towards the security office, telling her not to worry because he’d burn them soon, then spent five minutes trying to open the sealed thing of lighters.  Mostly because his left hand was still incredibly weak. 

He felt so humiliated when he came back to himself and realized that he was biting at a pair of lighters, with on open tin of altoids in his lap with half the store crowded around  as a security officer tried to talk him down. When he realizes later that the level of terror the people around him had was largely due to to have his body, head to leg was hideously scarred at the time. That’s something he hadn’t mentioned to Helel yet that he neither wants to talk about or think about because she has no goddamn place in his mind anymore. Why is he even thinking about this? Though even if he was handsome enough for Helel back then, it would have been ridiculously confusing for anyone who had not had to deal with that thing outside Lima.  

In truth Mule feels physically and emotionally drained just thinking about both incidents.  Before lying down though, he goes in to check on his mother. It’s a good things he did because she’s starting to wake up and looks a little confused.

“Hi, mom.” He greets her, “You overdid it today. It would have been nice if you’d told us you…” Her pointed stare makes him stop talking briefly. “Though, wasn’t it you who said not to…” The look is on the verge of splitting an atom.  “You kind of scared me, mom.” Her face softens, though not completely.

“Where’s your angel?”

“He had to go back to heaven to reassure some of his siblings that Michael’s not going to put them to death immediately upon her return to heaven. Apparently Michael’s not happy with some of Helel’s command decisions in her absence and she’s not in the most reasonable emotional state right now. Helel is having a hard time with this.” Mule informs her. Mary sighs and gets herself out of bed. “Mom, you really should be resting.”

“It’s Saturday, you should be at work.” She reminds him curtly.

“I was. It’s 6 pm now.” he informs her, but she just walks past him and heads downstairs. “No, really, mom. They pretty much insisted that you should stay in bed for a few days and recover.”

“It’s alright, Sam. I’m fine.” She goes to adjust the blade on her back when she realizes it’s not there. “Where is my blade?”

“Michael has it.” Mule informs her, knowing he’s not going to be able to keep her here or make her stay in bed. “I wouldn’t go over there. She’s a little volitile right now.”

“Have a little faith in your mother, Sam. Get some food, go to sleep and just keep doing what you’re doing, okay? I’ll take care of them.” She turns back for a second and gives her son a kiss on the cheek. “I promise.” As he is extremely tired, Mule nods and goes back to his room to get some sleep. Hopefully if he’s asleep nobody will ask him why he let his mother out of bed.

Mary continues over to Dean’s house and heads into the guest room where Michael is sitting on the side of the bed reading an official looking binder. There’s a stack of personnel files on the bed next to her.

“Mrs. Winchester.” Michael gives her a polite nod though she’s clearly not happy.

“Is this how you usually work?”

“No, I have a standing desk in my quarters with shelves on each side. One for items I’m currently using and one for the librarian to return to the stacks. Helel set it up for me. Before that I just had a large table where things just accumulated. But I can’t return there for several years apparently. But don’t worry as soon as I can. I’ll be giving your son back control of his body.”

“Come with me.” Mary picks up the folders and takes the binder from her as well. “Bring my blade.”

“Is that a request?” Michael asks with a dangerous look, giving her a chance to correct herself.

“No.” Mary walks out of the room and back over to her house. The files go in the trunk, as do three machetes. Two tranquilizer guns with empty darts to fill with dead man’s blood. Shovels, lighter fluid, terps bleach and a cooler full of ice and premade tea for each of them. At least enough for four days. She added enough honey and lemon to Michael’s hopefully so that he won’t recognize the tears used. It might be pushing it, but it’ll be good for him.

“I’m here to give you a chance to explain your behavior.” Michael stands at the open garage door, Mary’s blade and harness in hand.

“Oh really? Huh. I was going to talk to you but I no longer feel you’ll be very receptive.” Mary gets in the impala and opens the passenger door. “Are you coming? Or are you going to request new copies and let everyone in heaven assume you accidentally burnt yours. Or you could just explain that your vessel’s mother stole them from you?” Michael just narrows her eyes at the woman.

“This is Gabrielle’s blade. How did you obtain it?” She demands.

“How did you get it out of this sheath to see it? It’s warded so even archangels can’t pull it out.” Mary asks. Michael just holds it upside down and the blade falls out onto the ground.

“It’s a little too big for the blade,” Michael picks up up.

“Huh, to be fair, it has very odd dimensions.”

“How did you get Gabrielle’s blade?” Michael repeats Mary gets back out of the car, and walks up to face the archangel before her, and looks the commander of God’s army in the eye.

“I took it from her.”

Michael hands her the blade and sheath and follows her into the car.

 

Michael sits silently in the passenger’s seat looking out at the road. She’s not entirely sure why she’s there. It’s slow. There seems to be no end to their journey. Currently they’re stopped at a building with rows of add pillars. These strange carriages are parked alongside them and temporarily tethered to them with flexible tubes that makes the numbers on the pillars change.

She wants to ask questions, but she’s not sure how to address this awkward situation. Mrs. Winchester has absolutely no regard or respect for Michael’s authority but the woman has been sacrificing pieces of her soul for her recovery. Whether her motive was really just to get her son back, such a thing is not to be taken lightly. She has no idea how to approach this situation.

You’re probably wondering where we’re going and what we’re doing.” Mary puts the tube back on the pillar. After taking a couple odd shaped containers from the roof of the car, Mary gets back in the car. “Drink this.” She hands the purple one to the angel. “It’s medicine.” Michael just looks at her. “Angel tears mixed into honey lemon tea.” Michael takes it but just looks at it. “Your younger siblings all lovingly gave their tears to help you recover. I’m not going to be the one to tell them you refused their help.”

“I don’t know how this opens.” Michael says cooly. “And may I remind you that I am the commander of heaven’s army, the eldest and most powerful of all angels. I am  not used to being spoken to this way.” The look Mary gives her at this reminds her of how Helel looked at her the last time she brought up age right before reminding her that pretty much nothing existed except her before he was created so in regards to everything else means absolutely Jack shit.

“And may I remind you that I created that body you’re in out of my own body and I’m not exactly used to it speaking to me the way you have today.” Mary reaches over had pops up the top of Michael's bottle, then hers. "Now lets both try to be big girls about this and take our medicine. Now cheers.” She clunks her bottles against Michael and takes a drink, right before moving the carriage back onto the road.

“This is a male vessel, isn't it? Or is that just an expression?” Michael frowns. 

“Um, no, but your brother told me you were his sister, and apparently what your body is doesn’t determine things like that anymore.” Mary shrugs. “Every angel I’ve met refers to you as ‘she’ so…” Michael just gives a sigh.

“To be fair, my younger siblings can be very stupid. I am an angel. We angels are simply angels and have no bodies we do not reproduce in any manner, thus no gender. When I am in a vessel I prefer to be referred to as the vessel is referred to."

"Oh, alright. I can do that. It'll be easier to remember anyways. It did seem kind of sweet, though, with them thinking of you as a momma bear." Mary can't help but smile. 

"I am aware of the purpose and affection behind the labeling but it can be tiresome at times. It definitely overly complicated thing when I was in a vessel before seeing as there are often entire manners of speech specifically for one gender or the other to both speak in or be referred to. It can get incredibly irritating trying to deal with being misgendered in public or someone overhearing things. Especially since my name has taken on even more variants and mispronunciations since I was gone and further complicated that as well.” Michael sighs, not sure why he’s venting to this woman, but it just seems to slip out.

“What exactly is it, then? Assuming I'm saying it wrong,” Mary asks.

“Mi- kai- el.” The angel looks at the container in his hands.

“Mi-kai-el?” Mary repeats. Michael nods. “Alright, Michael, You’re probably wondering where we’re going and what were doing.”

“I am.” Michael takes a drink. It tastes more refreshing than anything he’s ever experienced. Something in it absolutely delights his senses. The rest is an odd spattering of molecules in the background slighting marring the taste.

“You’re a lot like my son. You wake up from a coma and immediately try to get back to work. That’s no good. Especially since it only seems to upset you right now. There’s nothing you can do about anything that was or is going on in heaven underneath your brother’s rule… care… leadership? Under his leadership.” Mary settles on. “At least not without further injuring your angelic self, am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“But while you’re inside my son, there’s nothing that can hurt his body and you inside of it, beside an archangel blade.” She continues. Michael nods and keeps drinking. “I also know that you are the greatest warrior in all of heaven and possibly all of creation.” The angel gives a twitch of a smile at this, but that's it. “I gather from your siblings comments on your condition that you’re the kind who likes to stay active and prefer having something to do at all times.”

“True.”

“I also am a kind of warrior who likes to keep active in a position where there’s little to nothing I can do about things. So we’re going to go do what I often do to deal with it. At least temporarily. We are going to go kill things.” Mary looks over at him with a grin. Michael can’t help but smile back. At the very least it should be interesting.

Michael looks down at his blood soaked shirt. That was rather relaxing, if a little easy, but there’s much more of a mess than he anticipated. Ordinarily making himself presentable wasn’t an issue but now he’s not quite confident enough to even attempt to return his clothing to their original state. Mary tosses him a crinkly black bag and a jumpsuit. 

“Dirty clothes in the bag and then put on the jumpsuit.” She instructs. “It’s your… his brother’s so it might be a little big but just roll up the hems and it should be fine.” Mary cleans off the machete and takes a couple containers of gasoline inside the old barn. Michael watches as she pours it over the dead bodies. There’s a small noise that just barely catches Michael’s attention.

“Stop.” He commands, and goes towards where he thinks it came from. The fact that he doesn’t know where it came from is beyond irritating. Because it was clearly a human noise and he can’t seem to detect anything human at all. He’s almost used to Mary giving off no presence at all, but that’s because of her warding. Still it’s disconcerting, and frustrating.

When he reaches about where the noise come from he looks down. The creaking of the floor boards stops and the small pieces of metal connecting the boards to the floor where his is, are different. They’re in a different place on the board as the other ones. They also have small crosses etched into the round tops. The word screws come to mind. There are also absolutely no gaps between at least twelve of the boards, though it’s not too much different than all the rest.. The same thing is on the other ends of those boards.

There are a few scratches on the long sides of the outside boards near some knot holes cutting into the sides of the boards next to them. Two small fingers appear in one before disappearing with a slight bustling sound. Michael takes hold of it and pulls the lid easily off the hidden compartment using one finger in each know hole. There are two small children in there, a little girl maybe four, holding an even smaller boy in diapers. They’re both very quiet and look up at the angel above them. In the pit they’re in are diaper, clean and unclean, mostly unclean. There’s a container of wipes, a bottle, some bread, formula, and a large bottle of water. They’re on a dirty blanket that should probably be burned.

Michael looks up to call to Mary, but she’s already there.

“It’s alright.” Mary smiles and reaches down to them. “We’re here to rescue you. Let me take the little guy first and… ow! Mother fu...rrr.” She jerks her hand back as the little girl bites hard very deeply with very human teeth. But it still hurts like hell.

“I’ll take the both of you at once.” Michael kneels down and picks up the little girl and boy at the same time, in the same position they’re in. The little girl is princess carried in his arms and her bother is snuggled up in his sister’s lap held tightly in the little girl's arms. “Is he your little brother?” He asks her. She nods. “I could tell. You know why? Because you were protecting him and taking care of him so well. It can be very hard to take care of a little brother when you’re all alone. I should know.”

“You have a little brother too?” She asks with a tiny voice.

“Yes. I do, but he’s all grown up now.” The angel nods, “So I can’t carry him around anymore.”

“Aiden likes to walk by himself but his foot hurts now so I have to carry him,” The girl says as Michael sets them down in the back seat.

“Let me take a look at your foot, if you please.” He gently addresses Aiden.

“Show him the boo-boo, Aiden.” The girls tell him. The little boy holds out his little chubby foot, letting Michael see a small brand on the arch of the tiny foot, a small wing with an ornate B in the center.

‘MOTHER FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!’ sears through Michael’s consciousness. ‘Goddamn Barachiels!’ comes a little more weakly though the feeling of righteous fury that accompanies it takes longer to fade back.

“Barachiels?” Michael repeats to himself.

“Tiss.” Aiden finally speaks, wiggling the tiny toes on his branded foot.

“What did you just say?” Mary walks over and sees the small brand, giving a shark intake of breath. “Those mother fucking sons of bitches.” She curses under her breath so the children don’t hear, and turns away.

“Tiss?” Aiden pouts.

“He wants you to kiss it and make it better.” The girl explains. So Michael bends over and gives it a little kiss, completely unable to make anything better. He must look upset because one of them pats his head.

“It’s okay. You did your best. You’re just not a mommy. Only mommies can do it. Say thank you, Aiden.”

“Tay ku.”Aiden puts his fingers into his mouth, leaning against his big sister. They both try to scoot a little closer to Michael and his warmth, so he assumes they’re a little cold. There’s a clear bag of fabric on the floor of the back seat half under the front seat. He places it gently around them tucking it under their feet and sides.

“Hello Kitty!”The girl smiles.

“We need to take them back to the hotel.” Mary leans against the hood of the car. “Fuck!” She winces. “I should have left one of those vamps alive.” Mary buries her face in her arm, breifly before looking down at the children again.

“What’s wrong? And what are the Barachiels?” Micheal demands.

“The Barachiels are an underworld syndicate made of supernatural creatures. They run the supernatural black markets, which used to be a lot less organized. They’re run by a fallen angel named Barachiel, but there are three fallen angels at the top named Barachiel and no one knows which one is THE Barachiel. This… is.. This is the brand of the human trafficking portion. Humans are taken as small children, trained and sold to other monsters. I had no idea their reach had extended this far south. Or is it coming up from south? I’m going back inside to search for clues. Stay with the children. They seem to like you.”

“Of course.” Michael stands up.

“Thank you. And thank you for keeping me from lighting the place up.” She briefly puts her hand on his arm and heads back to the barn.

There’s a sound like the cracking of winter ice followed immediately by another soon after a small pebble seems to strike at his forehead, then the back of it. It’s a little confusing for a second as his body repairs itself. Before he has a chance to think too much about it, there’s a light flash in the forest with two more noises. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mary collapse to the ground, her arm outstretched with an odd weapon made of metal in her hand.

Cursing his limited senses Michael moves the children to the floor of the car telling them to be quiet and stay put. He runs towards the location of the flash of light and sound that caused Mary to collapse with such speed that the human barely gets a chance to do it again before Michael’s on him.

The most difficult part of capturing the man is restraining himself so that he doesn’t accidentally kill him. Angels are not supposed to kill humans. Accidents do happen though,but not only would it not feel enough like an accident for Michael’s peace of mind, this one my be associated with this syndicate Mary wanted more information about. Fortunately the man makes it to the baggage part of the car alive if not conscious.

Mary is alive, though blood runs down her forehead and out of her left upper arm. She is unconscious however and at the moment, Michael can do nothing for her. He’ll need one of his angels. The only problem is that on thinking about it, Michael realizes that for the first time in all of creation, he has no idea where he is in relation to absolutely anything.


	40. Family Reunion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Seraph comes to Michael's aid.  
> Mule deals with Helel's panic attack  
> Mary deals with Michael and Helel's argument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I'm kind of sick, not sick enough to stay home but sick enough to be stripped of my productivity when I'm home. Enjoy.

Michael looks down to examine Mary’s injuries. The one on her head shows the object just grazed her skull. But the one on her arm is still bleeding.

“Mrs. Winchester.” He gently nudges her uninjured arm.

“What? Ah, I got shot. I thought I dozed off at a parent teacher conference or something.” She winces slightly. “You can call me Mary by the way.” She lets him help her up. “Maybe this was too soon for me.” Mary grumbles. “I mean, come on. I take out War while practically on death’s door and then pass out from a friggin sunshot wound?” She actually looks embarrassed.

“You… defeated War?” Michael can’t help but feel impressed.

“Barely.” Mary makes it back to the car. “There’s a first aid kit in the trunk. Just… bring it to me.” She sits in the driver’s seat. “You okay, kids?”

“Yes.” The girl squeals.

“Everything is alright.” Michael reassures her. The two children must be warded the same way Mary and Michael’s vessel are, because he can’t tell where they are just by searching for them either. And he knows where they are. How can he call for assistance when he doesn’t know where he is and he can’t be found. He can’t even fly up into the sky a little to check for landmarks. Maybe he can… The sky. Nothing is where it once was, exactly, but maybe they can use it to find him.

“The nearest angel to this location, report to it at once.” He sends out the image to all his siblings except Helel because he doesn’t feel up to dealing with his little brother right now.

“I am coming.” One replies. In a few minutes, after Mary has bandaged her head and removed a small piece of lead from her arm, Anael’s second appears. “What do you require of me, sir.” He gives a respectful nod.

“A few things at present. Bring this carriage and everyone in it to the nearest inn, assist me in procuring a room and tend to their injuries. Folling that return to this barn and search for their belongings, hidden or otherwise, especially papers relating to the Barachiels, signified with a wing with a B inside them. Finally return to me at the inn and wait for further instruction.” Michael gets into the back with the children. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Castiel nods again and takes them all to a place called the Cheddar Fort Inn with a picture of a wheel of orange cheese with a face and a swiss cheese flag on top of a small stone fort on the top. The cheese has buck teeth.

The younger angel enters a door to a room with large amounts of glass for the walls and proceeds to speak with the man behind the counter. The angel takes some green paper from a foldable rectangular pouch of sorts and exchanges it with the man for a small envelope. When he returns to the car he takes it to another spot outside a numbered door. As Mary is feeling a little lightheaded again, she allows Castiel to help her into the room, which he opens with a slide of a card. The angel holds the door open as Michael carries the children in.   
There are two large beds which should be good enough.

“If I may sir.” The angel waits a moment for Michael’s nod to continue.” I’d like to procure some supplies for the children before searching the barn for information.” Michael nods and the angel disappears.

“You don’t have to worry. You’re safe now.” Michael kneels before them as they sit on the side of the bed. “Is there anything I can do for you? Is there anything you’d like to do? Any games you’d like to play?”

“Emmo?” Aiden looks up hopefully.

“He wants to watch Elmo on TV.” The girl looks over towards the large black screen in an oddly thick black frame hanging on the wall.

“I don’t understand. What is TV?” He asks. The girl gives him a hard look. “I really don’t know. I’m an angel, you see, and I haven’t been on earth in a very long time. Most things are quite new to me and there’s quite a lot I don’t know yet.” He explains.

“You’re an angel? What’s your name?” She asks skeptically.

“Michael.” He replies. “What’s yours?”

“Amber. But Mee Kyle in not an angel name.” She scolds him. “It’s not nice to tell lies.”

“Some people pronounce it Michael.” The angel sighs. The little girl scowls at him unexpectedly. “Are… are you angry with me?” he asks, a little surprised at her reaction.

“Yes! You were supposed to protect my daddy! He was a policeman and you’re supposed to protect policemen but you didn’t and they died. You are a bad angel!” Though he can tell she means bad as in bad at his job and not evil.

“I’m very sorry.” He apologizes contritely, which seems to soften the look on her face into something far more heart breaking.

“Why didn’t you save him?” She looks like she’s going to cry with her little lip pouting out. “We went to church and we prayed every night and at all the meals like we were supposed to. Did we do something wrong? Was I… was I really a bad girl like those mean people said?”

“No, of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that there are so many policemen and I am only one angel. I wish I could be everywhere and do everything and save everybody, but I can’t. Yes our father made us strong but we aren’t anything close to as great as he is. We’re not perfect, but we’re doing our best. I hate that this happened and that you were made so sad and hurt so badly. Loosing a father can be hard, but I know you are strong enough to bear the pain until it ends. One day you will be able to think of him and the happiness he gave you while you were with him and it won’t make you so sad.” Michael gently wipes a tear from her eyes. “Now why don’t you tell me about this TV? How does it work? How do we get Elmo?”

 

When Mary finally wakes, she finds herself on top of a motel bed. She looks to the side and sees Michael asleep on the other bed. His arm is around the children. The little girl is in the middle with her back to him. She’s holding her little brother who’s snuggled up against her. It’s an adorable sight but also reminds her of her son’s absence from his newborn children. Not that they’ve left the hospital quite yet, but they’re definitely coming home today.

“Mrs.Winchester.” A man sitting at the table in the opposite corner near the window greets her. His eyes are ridiculously blue. There are piles of binders on it and the floor beside it as well as a bag of items.

“Who the hell are you?” She reaches back for her blade.

“My name is Castiel. I am a seraph who is here to assist Michael, and your self as long as she needs me.” The man replies. “I can provide healing and mobility of which she is currently incapable.”

“Michael prefers to be addressed as the gender of his vessel, in case you were unaware.” She informs him relaxing a little.

“I was unaware. Thank you. It’s rare for Michael to take a vessel.” Castiel looks to Michael. “I’m not sure if you’re aware but neither of you is in the best condition to be hunting monsters right now. You should be resting and regaining your strength.”

“Whatever Michael’s lost, he still has total invulnerability to almost all weapons, and is the best fighter I’ve ever seen. Besides I make sure he takes his medicine. I take mine, too. He needed something to do besides stress himself out over things that have happened while he was imprisoned. So did I. Luckily there was an available hunt nearby that I could take over for a failed hunter who left a message as to where the nest were and how many vamps.”

Mary shrugs. “It wasn’t a problem.”

“You can’t see the faded lights of his grace, or his tattered broken wings, or you never would have never taken him from the house.” The angel gives a distressed look to the sleeping angel on the bed.

“I would never put either person in that body in danger. Maybe Michael is far from his former glory, but he is still so many levels above the normal human condition that you don’t need to worry about him out here.” Mary reassured Castiel.

“He is sleeping.” The younger angel beseeches her. “Please, after this take Michael home and keep him there until he’s well again.”

“Sleeping isn’t fatal. And I doubt it’s a physical need for him.” Mary stands up. “Michael will go where Michael wants to go. Is the man who shot me still in the trunk?”

“Yes. I have rendered him unconscious.”

“Good.” Mary thinks. “I’m tempted to torture him. Maybe kill him. I probably would. But I’m kind of against that. I want to give him to the authorities, but actual authorities who know about the Barachiels and are trying to do something about it, so he won’t be able to go back to them.”

“Agent Heinrickson.” The angel snaps up a business card and hands it to her. “He heads the task force looking for the Barachiels. It’s a punishment duty but he takes it seriously. He also works closely with several special military units including your son’s/ The man in the trunk does bear the mark of the Barachiels so he will be thoroughly questioned and absolutely not allowed to return. It’s placements indicates he’s a willing member and a permanent life long one.”

“The brand placements have meaning?” Mary asks, looking over at the little branded foot.

“That one means that he’d going to be given to a vampire family to help them blend in somewhere and possibly be used as bait to lure in victims. He is a little young. Maybe he’ll be given to a shifter coupe. The girl’s means she was going to be turned into something that doesn’t age. The most popular is a vampire with the teeth removed. Then she would be sold to a human who… would have an interest in a little girl that stays a little girl.” Castiel informs her a bit reluctantly. The look on Mary’s face darkens to something cold and terrifying.

“Deliver the man in the trunk to Agent Heinrickson before I murder him.”

“Samuel!”  Helel’s near panicked exclamation almost wakes Mule from the dream he’s in. “We can’t find Michael! Or your mother. Please let me back in!”

“Yeah, sure, okay.” He winces a little as Helel comes in not quite as gently as he did before slamming Mule back to the corners of his mind. It’s like being caught in a tidal wave and dashed against the side of the cliff full force.

“I’m sorry.” Helel pulls him back towards the front. That was not pleasant at all. “I was careless. It won’t happen again.”

“Did you have to body slam me against my own skull? Or whatever that was.. I wasn’t sure if I was crushed or drowning or both.”

“I said I was sorry, Mule. Members of our family are missing with no way for me to find them! Both of them are in no condition to be out there doing anything. Why did you let them leave?!” Helel demands angrily.

“I didn’t?” Mule forces himself not to get too pissed off at the question. Helel’s just upset and not thinking rationally. “I have absolutely have no authority over either of them. For that matter, neither do you? My mother would never do anything to put Dean in danger, Michael either by default. She’s probably just taken her somewhere to calm down and relax a little.”  Though he knows this will just piss his angel off some more, it’s the truth. His mother would go to the ends of the earth for Dean.

“And how would she know what Michael needs to relax? How does she relax? And why couldn’t they do it at home?” The angel demands.

“Probably because the twins are coming home today.” Mule informs him. Helel stands up, and runs his hands back through Mule’s lack of hair. It occurs to him that it would probably be hard on Jo to see Michael up and around with her husband still locked away inside. But that could be avoided just by going to Mary and Mule’s house. “I am glad you’re back, though, because it would look a lot better if Dean brought Jo and the twins home from the hospital.

“This is not the time for that. They could be in danger!” Helel exclaims starting to

pace around Mule’s room, thinking of all the things that could happen.

Few things can kill Michael but there’s a lot that could at least hurt and confine

him or render him docile. Holy oil, spells, vodoo, spells aimed at the body he’s in, pagan magic that could prove that there are worse things than death. And everyone of them, everywhere would just love to take down the mightest of all of heaven’s warriors, even if she is weakened. Then there’s the chance of someone getting hold of Mary’s blade or Michael’s because they’re too weak to defend themselves properly. Mary getting hurt because Michael can’t protect her properly. She’d be devastated. Mule would be devastated. They’d both blame themselves.

Gabrielle could steal Raphael’s blade and come kill Michael while she’s sleeping

and Mary. He’s not stupid enough to believe that his little sister wouldn’t jump at the chance to get rid of Michael. She hates her older sister worse than Helel hates Raphael. Either because of or in spite of the fact that they once used to love each other and enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes. They were always at odds about something, but now… After Raphael’s betrayal, Helel can’t be confident the angel would even try and stop her from doing so.

The sounds of the world feels so cacophonous including the sounds of his vessels body. The beating of his heart, the blood rushing through his veins, the air rapidly passing through his lungs, even the rustle of fabric and his footsteps feel like an overwhelming flurry. He just got her back. He can’t lose her again. Not so soon. Not ever.

“Has anyone thought to call mom and ask?”  Mule asks reasonably, the song of his thoughts gently covering everything else.

“Call her?” Helel stops pacing and tries to think.

“On the phone? Her numbers a permanent fixture on the white board in the kitchen. In case of emergencies.” Helel is silent, as if he can’t process this right now. “Let me in the drivers seat so I can call her up and ask her what’s going wrong.” Mule gently coaxes his angel into switching places with him then takes his phone from the nightstand. “Mom. Hi. I… yes, actually. I was half crushed by an archangel suffering from a rather extreme panic attack because you two took off without telling anyone and no one can locate either of you at all.

“No. I…. Okay. ‘he’ ‘brother’ ‘him’, I got it… I will. But really mom, Helel is really freaking out and I’d just like to know where the two of you are and what you’re doing so I can calm him down…. Uh-huh…. Uh-huh… Uh-h-what did you just say?” Mule straightens up. “No. Here? Fucking here? Imported or local?... I’m sorry, mom I didn’t know how else to ask!... okay, okay! ... I’m not allowed to talk about it, Mom. But I’ll make sure it gets taken care of… You did? Wonderful…. Yes absolutely the right thing to do. No, that’s perfect. Now could you please bring Michael back?....

“Alright, yeah, that makes sense… No, I totally understand. I wouldn’t if I didn’t absolutely have to either. That’s, yeah… No, absolutely. Can you text me the address and room number so I can bring Helel by to see Michael, just make sure s..he’s okay before he gives us an aneurism?... Great, thanks. Hold on.” Mule dashes to his desk and takes out a piece of paper and a pen. “Okay. I’m ready.” He writes it down as she tells him. “ Thanks, Mom. Do you need us to bring anything? Yeah, actually. Everything’s fairly decently labeled down there. How many do you want us to… Okay. We’ll see you soon.”

“And?” Helel demands before Mule can finish hanging up the phone.

“It’s alright. They’re just fine. They’re at a hotel. A hunt took an unexpected turn into serious territory, but they’ve contacted the right man to take it from there. Unfortunately there are small children involved and Michael doesn’t want to leave them alone. Mom wants us to bring the box of toddler stuff from the basement.”

“Your mother took Michael on a hunt?” Helel asks slowly as if he’s not quite sure he heard his vessel right.

“Yeah, that does sound like her honestly.” Mule sighs. “I can’t believe you asked me why I ‘let them’ leave. Why did you ‘let them’? Why did the other angels ‘let them’? Seriously. I know you’re stressed but still.” Mule heads down the stairs and to the basement.

“Shut up, Mule. This is a very trying time for me. You could at least be a little more Supportive.”

“I’m sorry. But you have to understand, there’s a limit to what I can and will do for you and trying to order my mother or your sister around is way past that limit. It is never going to happen. You could become my new god and I would still not even try to boss my mother around for you.” Mule walks past the work out area, over to the Ikea shelving units of plastic tubs.  On the corner next to the washer and dryer.

“I feel extremely offended at that remark, but I’m not entirely sure which part I’m offended at the most, so I’m going to let that go.” Helel gives an exasperated sigh, though the angel's mood seems to have lightened slightly. “I can’t help but notice that you’re unfeelingly sanguine about all of this.”

“Of course I’m calm about this.” Mule ignores the ‘unfeeling’ remark, having long learned to recognize his angel’s anxiety prompted deflections“ Do I wish my mother had just stayed in bed and gotten some rest? Yes. But she’s not stupid. She knows her limits. And I’ve gone into combat under worse conditions. She’s a veteran hunter. She’s got this. The worst things to come out of this is everyone freaking out over their inconsiderate and selfish behavior, which no I will not be repeating to either of them, so don’t you either.” Mule studies the labels. Is it organized by date or just randomly put in. He knows Helel organized it at some point, but he also knows his mother has been down here and may not have put things back in order properly if at all. So, individual inspections it is.

“And you have no concern for our siblings what-so-ever?” Helel accuses cooly.                  

“No, they’re with mom.” Mule replies simply. “Alright, found it. Your turn at the wheel.”

“Thank you.” Helel takes the bin to the location given and is greatly relieved to see both Mary and Michael in one piece. There are two small children on his sister’s lap eating pizza. The little girl lifts up her pizza to Michael who thanks her and takes a very small bite, eating and swallowing what Helel knows takes incredibly unpleasant.  Helel just stands in the corner quietly, arms crossed, and tries to think of a way to approach this without losing his mind. The two just ignore his presence, though the baby waves hi, so he has to give a little smile and wave back.

“Hewo.”The little boy greets them. He’s holding a small toddler sized slice of pizza cut out of a larger slice, the remainder of which, Mary’s eating.

“Did you bring it?” Mary asks when her mouth’s no longer full.

“No, I just decided to bring an empty tub here instead.” Helel’s sarcastic reply get’s Michael’s attention.

“Is this how you speak to your vessel’s mother, Helel?” The angel’s question earns him a sideways glance from Mary.

“When she kidnaps my sister who is injured and is supposed to be resting? Yes. Yes it is.” Both of them look a little amused at the accusation and give each other a look.

“Do you really think she could?” Michael asks in a way that tells Mule where Helel got that condescending tone from. Helel doesn’t say anything. “I’m sorry if I worried you, but I’m very glad I went with her. Now, would you care to tell me how you could let three of our fallen brethren create a criminal empire, employing humans and monsters alike to kidnap human beings and sell them, their children, their organs, and their blood, with many fates being worse than death?”

Helel doesn’t say anything under Michael’s critical gaze. He doesn’t know how or what to say. Michael hasn’t taken him to task like this in Days. Especially not in front of other people. He knows he has to be soft and kind and understanding, but this is a little humiliating.

“They were very good at covering their tracks. I only just learned of them recently, but there is a unit assigned to them to try and locate and eliminate their threat.” Helel says slowly.

“From what I hear they have been operating for several thousand years. Perhaps if you’d put a little more effort into stopping things like this, that directly threaten humanity instead of reaching out to the fallen one, you could have discovered and stopped this before it grew to this extent.”   Michael continues to chide his little brother, who’s cheeks flush slightly.

“A ‘repentant’ one is the only reason I know about the Barachiels’ existence in the first place. If I had put more effort into saving our brothers I might have learned even sooner.” Helel tries to keep his voice quiet and small, but it’s hard as the expected reaction from Michael is making him angrier than he expected to be.

“Humanity is the priority, Helel. Not us, not our siblings, not me. And you have been slacking off on the most important job there is.” Michael’s accusation stings Helel so deeply that he wants just scream and storm from the room.

“Humanity does nothing but increase itself! Do you know how many of them exist on this planet right now? Over seven and a half billion of them. Even if we had all our numbers and nothing to do except attend the humans on earth, that’s still thousands of humans per angel!  We are at three quarters our number with those missing three quarters being fallen or dead. That doesn’t even take into consideration the non-human population we’d have to face. The basic upkeep and maintenance of heaven and all the souls within take up more than half of us.

“You also don’t seem to realize that when Father left us, he did so with absolutely no instructions as to what to do at any point in time from then until the end of time. It wasn’t6 like when he was here, telling us what to do, when to do it every step of the way. The only standing rules he left us were to serve, protect and love humanity beyond all else, even him, and that forgiveness was for anyone who wanted it. That’s it, Michael. That’s all I had to go on. Serve and protect, love humanity, forgive and of course the ever present doctrine of Free Will. Four things!

“That would have been hard enough, but I’ve had to do it all alone, Michael. All of this has been on my shoulders. Now you’re back and start criticizing everything I’ve done the second you learn of it. You have no right to judge me in this! You weren’t here, you don’t understand, and you just plain don’t have the slightest clue what the hell you’re talking about! And yet you still insist of just speaking out of your ass, because you’re so damn sure you know better about everything!”

Mule’s not sure what to do exactly when the argument continues, very loudly in enochian, with Michael raising his voice and Helel occasionally lowering his in a very frightening manner. While having no idea exactly what’s being said both Mule and Mary recognize the names Gabrielle and Raphael, which immediately intensifies the argument with Michael grabbing Helel by the shirt collar.

Quick as lightening, Mary is beside the two. Much to everyone’s surprise, she grabs both archangel’s by the ear and yanks their head down to her level. It’s pure astonishment that both stops their argument and keeps them from turning their anger on the hunter. Michael is absolutely unprepared for anything like this to happen. Helel, although being far more familiar with Mary, is equally unprepared for anyone grabbing Michael by the ear like a naughty child.

“Stop this bullshit right now. There are two very traumatized children in this room and the last thing they need to see if Humanitie’s diving protectors squabbling like children, much less physically attacking each other! I for one already have one pair of brothers who hate each other to deal with and I don’t need two.” She lets them go. “Now either you both apologize or one of you leaves, understood?” Helel nods but Michael… Michael just stares.


	41. Home Is Where The Heart Is

“Why on earth would you think we hate each other?” Michael shocked expression is contradicted by the hands still on Helel’s collar. Mary crosses her arms and stares at him. Helel just sighs and eases the fabric of his shirt out of his sister’s grip. Michael almost absentmindedly lets go as if he’d forgotten he was holding it, and turns to face Mary. “Just because I’m angry with him doesn’t mean I don’t love and treasure him more than any other being in all creation.” The angel sounds almost indignant.

“That’s not exactly putting humanity first and loving them more than father himself, is it?” Helel can’t help but poke.

“Shush!” Mary puts a finger to his lips. “Michael, you know better than to think laying hands on your little brother in anger is at all acceptable, and don’t you dare try to tell me otherwise? As for you, young man, your smart mouth is only escalating the situation. Your brother just told you he loved you and your response is to try and start another fight?

“Both of you have gone through very trying experiences that the other can’t possibly understand and we are not playing the who had it worse game. You both need to shape up and show each other a little more respect and compassion. Not to mention a little understanding of each other’s situation. Especially if you’re going to be working together again. I assume, Michael, that you do not intend to leave your brother with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I also assume, Helel, that you want his help again.” Helel just nods.

“You don’t need to push yourself, though.” Helel turns to Michael. “I can handle things until you regain your health and catch up on things you’ve missed. I really would encourage you to try and get in touch with Dean as soon as you can and work out some sort of timeshare arrangement for the use of his body. Samuel and I have and it worked very well for both of us. Being able to rest while Dean goes about his business will greatly help you to recover. I just want you to get better and be able to come home. That’s all.

“If there are things you want to accomplish while you’re down here. We’ll find a way to do that. If you’d like to head the unit looking into and going after the Barachiels that would be more than alright.”Helel offers. “Even if you’re not at your peak, your insights and battle skills would be beyond valuable. But things are very different now, so you’ll have to listen to experts in human life and technology and probably defer to them in a lot of areas.” Helel cautions him.

“I understand.” Michael nods, then gives a soft almost amused smile. “I missed you and your loquatious-ness.”

“I love you, too.” Helel hugs his sister tightly. “Oh, and of course, I made it so the children couldn’t hear us arguing.”

“I’m sorry. This was an inappropriate place and time for that discussion. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you, not having me to lean on and confide in or talk things out with, and with father gone… Everything was difficult enough when it was just the two of us working together following our father’s instructions. You’re right, I’m in no place to judge your decisions.”

Michael rubs his little brother’s back. Helel always hated being confined to the throne room as much as he was when their father wandered the earth. It must have been torture not being able to walk among the trees and gaze up at the starts to gather his thoughts. Before father left, vessels didn’t matter so much. Father could make any one of them capable of holding them when necessary. 

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t be so defensive. I know you’re just trying to do what our father told us to do. We just have different approaches. That’s all.” Helel returns the apology and just takes comfort in his sister’s closeness. He just wants to stay like this until everything’s alright again and he can be sure he’ll never lose her again.

“I would like to request Castiel, from Anael’s garrison, or does he have a garrison of his own by now? He’s been invaluable today, and seems incredibly familiar with humanity’s current state.  If I recall he was a much more capable lieutenant than I expected him to be.” Michael nods approvingly at the thought. Helel breaks away a little, looking uncomfortable.

“Michael.” He says quietly. “Castiel…. Castiel left heaven a thousand years ago.” the news hits Michael like a ton of bricks. The angel puts a hand on a nearby chair and sits heavily on it. Castiel, loyal obedient devoted Castiel, abandoned heaven? There has to be a mistake.

“No, Castiel would never abandon his brothers this way. He would never leave like that. He adores humanity and relishes his role as protector more than any other angel in the garrison.” Michael shakes his head, refusing to believe it. It’s not possible that angel could fall.

“I’m sorry. After we lost you and father left, both at the same time, it was hard for many angels. I did my best to comfort and take care of them and see that they got the love and encouragement they needed. But I overlooked him entirely. He was always so loyal, obedient, devoted, just like you said. By all accounts, he just… slowly lost faith. He always objected to the slaughter of nephilim children, always wanted to take a more hands on approach to protecting humanity. He admired you so much, it was hard when you were lost and father not only left but didn’t lift a finger to save you. He seemed to be okay, but I guess it just wore him down until he broke.” Helel says quietly. “I should have seen past appearances, but there were just so many of them to take care of, three quarter million of our siblings to take care of.”

“I understand. So, Castiel is just wandering the earth, helping, protecting humanity the way he wanted to, like Amitiel?” Michael asks almost hopefully. This kind of fallen angel, he can forgive. And it would make sense. It’s the only thing that would make sense of Castiel’s departure. Maybe he fell in love as well.

“No.” Helel closes his eyes and takes a breath, letting Michael know that he’s not going to like what his brother’s going to say next. “He’s with Gabrielle.” Helel softly informs him. Michael feels as if he’s been speared through the heart. That’s not the angel he knew.  Castiel could never… maybe, maybe she found him, convinced and corrupted him just like she corrupted Raphael. “I didn’t know you knew him so well.” Helel remarks as Michael just sits down on the nearest chair. 

“He loved Gabrielle. I kept a close eye on all of the angels that seemed to love her the most. At first, I expected him to be one of those that fled heaven to join her. He was one of the few that proved himself to me, one of the few that didn’t manage to go to her.” Michael covers his face. “Why do they leave us, Helel? And why after leaving, did he answer my call?”

Helel just kneels down before him and let’s Michael rest his head on his shoulder. Watching the angels fall always hurt Michael so much. The both of them had helped to raise all of their brothers and sisters. They loved and cared for them. Maybe they weren’t as close to them as they were to Raphael and Gabrielle, but when they left, they broke Michael’s heart all over again. Not that Michael would ever show it to anyone but Helel. Helel was the only one he could let himself be vulnerable with, not completely, but more than anyone else. 

“Our brothers have free will as well, Michael. They are free to choose the wrong thing. They’re free to be selfish and short sighted and cruel. At least now they are also free to repent when they realize how wrong they were, and we are free to forgive them. I know that when forced to choose between human lives and our brothers, humanity has to come first. But when we can’t choose without endangering human lives, why shouldn’t we?”

“Don’t preach, my shining star. Not right now.” Michael half begs. In response Helel just rubs his cheek against his sister’s. Michael just lets him hold and comfort him. Mary tends to the children, distracting them with the toys. He can hear her explain that yes, angels fight with their brothers, too. But they always make up and say their sorry and try to do better, just like people should. And yes, little brothers can take care of big brother’s sometimes, too.

 

It takes only a couple of hours for the librarian to locate the children’s nearest relatives, their grandparents. Fortunately they’d only been missing a few months, and they were both easily recognised by the other. When Michael returns to Mary’s house, he lays down in Dean’s old bedroom. Everything has exhausted him more than he can bear. 

Helel explained the deal he and he vessel, Samuel worked out. Though to be honest he wouldn’t mind, just resting in the background until he’s good as new. Not having to think or feel or even be aware of things sounds inviting. But he won’t leave Helel all alone anymore. Dean’s a big brother. He’ll probably understand. Michael has to find him first. Somewhere inside his consciousness. That was definitely him earlier. It’s likely he’d be interested in helping Michael deal with the Barachiels

 The first attempt is exhausting and Michael is forced to rest. There has to be something that will draw him forwards. Mentioning the Barachiels, the knowledge of injured children sparked enough righteous anger to push forwards at least so he was heard. Maybe if he calls to him as he’s searching the edges, his vessel might respond.

“Dean.” Michael calls. No, that’s too informal. His vessel deserves more respect for what he was willing to sacrifice for him, “Sheriff Winchester. May I speak to you? I can’t seem to find you as easily as I’d hoped. I’ll need your help and cooperation to bring you forwards. I would like to return you to your family as much as I can. Before I am well enough to leave you entirely.”

“You’re Michael.” He hears faintly in the darkness.

“Yes, thank you for taking me in. I know how much you gave up to become my vessel. I can never repay you for your selfless generosity.”

“I’m not the one you owe for this.” The voice is a little closer and he can see the shining soul huddled in a dark corner of their mind. “My choice was either to let you in or to let myself and my brother as well as the surrounding area die in your presence. That’s not really a choice at all.”

“I didn’t know.” Michael’s not sure what to say to this. It never occurred to him that any vessel would say yes when they were less than willing. 

“It’s not your fault.” The huddled mass says softly.

“Are you alright?” Michael kneels down before him. “Did I hurt you?”

“It’s been kind of intense.” the man admits. “There were moments though, where I could hear them calling for me, for you. Talking, saying things I couldn’t quite understand. I heard my mother singing to me. Felt my wife holding me. Your brother…” He stops, not mentioning his own brother at all.

“How did this happen? How were you put in that terrible position? That is not how consent is supposed to be obtained. If my brother has manipulated or infringed upon your free will in any way…” Michael starts a little angrily.

“It wasn’t your brother.” Dean quickly corrects him. “It was mine.”

 

It takes a surprisingly long time to get the full story out of him. It nearly makes Michael break down hearing it. Several times he thinks he’s going to drown in the pain. Because yes, he does know what it’s like to have to capture your younger sibling and send them to their sentencing and punishment. Yes, he does know what it’s like to have a brother leave home and come home a broken shell of himself, to have him wharped and twisted by the devil herself acts Michael never thought him capable of. He knows what it’s like to be betrayed by him. The one you only ever tried to love and protect and take care of. Losing your family, not knowing when you’ll get back to them. To be trapped and alone.

“I would have done the same thing.” Michael says as soon as both of them seem composed enough to speak again. Dean looks up at him.

“Which thing?”

“All of it. In your place, knowing what you knew, I would have made the same decisions. 

Helel’s actions and ideas of morality can be a little questionable at times, but his heart is always in the right place.Your reasoning was sound and responsible. Even the chance that there could be someone worse than.. The Nightingale, you call her? That would have been too much to risk.” Michael informs him. “I would have demanded proof, too.” 

“I was wrong, though.” Dean looks up at him. “He was right and I was wrong. I’d have left you in there.”

“I would have left me in there, too. Maybe he was right, but as I have repeatedly told Helel, the ends don’t justify the means.He was right in what he believed, what he meant to do, but the way he did it was absolutely terrible. It was wrong and almost unforgivable.”

“I didn’t behave much better.”Dean confesses. “I should have trusted him, had faith in him.”

“Maybe,” Michael moves beside him, “But it’s not as if he hasn’t earned your lack of faith and mistrust. You may have done the wrong thing but for the right reasons. That’s what’s important.”

“So it’s better to do the wrong thing for the right reason than the right thing for the wrong reasons?”  Dean raises an eyebrow at the angel a little surprised at the statement.

“I think so.” Michael nods. “It’s a matter of percentages and long term results. In the short term, the right thing is always better to do regardless of reasons. But the plain and simple truth is that if you have the right reasons behind your decisions and actions, you’re far more likely to do the right thing than someone who does things for the wrong reasons. We’re all going to make mistakes for whatever reason, misjudgement, faulty information, the pure inability to account for everything, that’s just a given. But better to make the mistake trying to do things for the right reasons.” The angel looks over at him. “My brother and I agree on this point. Unfortunately we seem to disagree on what are the right things and the right reasons.”

“I don’t even know what to think about Sam anymore. And I’m tired, so tired of trying with him. The more I try, the worse it is when it all ends up going wrong. And it always seems to go wrong.”

“You don’t have to worry about Sam. He has Helel now. Helel, it seems, is very good at helping people back to the light. He’ll take care of him, and bring him back to righteousness.” Michael reassures him. 

“I… it’s been a long time since you’ve seen him. I think maybe he’s not the brother you remember.” Dean says cautiously. “He does love you more than anything at least and was willing to do anything to get you back. That much is obvious. Mine hates me.”

“One of mine, pushed me into the cage.” Michael starts to tremble slightly. He tries to curl his wings around them to hide his face while he does his best not to crumble at this. But the sight of them just makes it worse.

“Oh, man, what the hell happened to you in there?” Dean reaches out to touch the ragged things, but stops himself.

“I tried to get out. It wasn’t made for me at all. It was made for Gabrielle. Of the four of us, she was the weakest. At first I just tried to wait. It was a mistake, after all. I was so sure that Father would save me. He didn’t. Helel, though, I was so sure that Helel would definitely get me out. He’d never let me stay in there. But he didn’t save me. I thought, maybe he just wasn’t strong enough. Maybe something happened. Maybe Raphael caught him off guard. After all Raphael loved me and he still… He and Helel almost hated each other. That thought was worse than anything else I could think of.

“I tried to break it open myself. I knew that if I just kept at it, I could damage it. Over and over again, I fought it, until I had nothing left. There were a few scratches, maybe a dent, but the only thing I broke was myself. I don’t even know how I made it out when it opened. I couldn’t even tell where you were until you said yes and I took refuge. That’s all I remember until I heard your mother singing that song she always sang. I’m still so very weak. I won’t even be able to leave and return to heaven to recover the rest of the way for a few years.” Michael covers his eyes.

“With your wings like that, I … I suppose you couldn’t, could you?” Dean says slowly. “I can’t… I can’t spend years locked away from my family. I’m about to be a father. To miss a few  years, these first years… I can never get that back. At the same time… I can’t just tell you to leave, not like you are.”

“I know. I thought, maybe we could come to an arrangement. Ordinarily I’d be content to just rest at the back of your mind until I can leave, but my brother needs me. And this absolute abomination of an operation the Barachiels are running cannot be left undealt with any longer.” Michael shakes his head.

“I agree completely. All I’ve been able to do is ask Bobby to get information from other hunters who’ve run across them or their victims so I can send it to Heinrickson. What did you have in mind?” The two spend the next several hours discussing plans and scheduling, resources and connections. Dean Winchester seems every inch a man Michael can trust and respect. While Michael, despite often looking as if he was going to break down into violence or tears, was everything Dean would have expected from the Commander of God’s Army, the patron saint of policemen.

It takes a little while to work out how exactly to change places, but for the first time in months Dean finally sits inside himself as himself. He can move his hands and fingers again. He can see. He can truly hear and feel and smell again. It’s dark outside and for some reason he’s in his old room at his mother’s. She’s asleep, so is Sam it seems. That or he’s in deep discussion with his angel. So Dean quietly makes his way downstairs, and walks back over to his house. While just a few yards away, it feels like it takes forever. The spare key is still there, so he can let himself in. As soon as he enters, he can hear the tiny cries of fussing babies. His heart feels like it stops for a moment. 

He’s up the stairs in a minute and looks in the nursery for the fussing babes, but no one’s there, so he checks in the master bedroom. Sure enough there’s Jo, half asleep, droopy eyed, hair a mess, shirt off, and breastfeeding both babies with the creative use of a dozen pillows and what he thinks is called the football hold.

“Joanna…” Her name slips from his lips as he tries to keep himself from crying at the beautiful messy pile of wonderful he sees before him. He doesn’t quite succeed but he tries.

“Dean?” Jo perks up slightly at the sound of her name. He rarely says it that way except in the moments of deepest emotion. The first time they made love, the first time he told her he loved her, when he spoke his vows on their wedding day. Her husband just nods.

“Do you… is there… oh, baby, I’ve missed you so much.” He walks over to the side of the bed as if he’s afraid it’ll all just disappear.

“I’ve missed you, too.” She can’t out her arms around him as she wants to, but she

accepts his kisses, letting him hold her head to his chest as the twins nurse. 

“Which is which?” He asks looking down at his children.

“Bobby John.” Jo nods to the one in her left arm. “And Mary Ellen.” She nods to the one in her right. Dean moves away to look at her, a bit surprised. “She’s camera shy apparently. We recorded everything in the delivery room. But you didn’t miss much. They just… came out slimier, that’s all.” Dean gives a little laugh at this and looks down at his family as long as he possibly can.


	42. First Sergeant Samuel Henry Winchester

“Don’t yell at me. I have this.” Helel snaps as he shakes the tumbler.

“I’m not yelling. I’m reminding you that there are other customers and you can’t take your sweet time crafting a drink of absolute perfection for every single one of them.” Sam reminds him.

“I’m sure they don’t mind. People appreciate quality and attention to detail.” Helel primly informs him.

“We care about getting our damn drinks!” One of the hunters at the bar snaps. Helel sighs and snaps his fingers, giving everyone their orders. At least a third of the less informed helpers get to their feet, drawing their weapons.

“Helel, hon.” Ellen walks over to him. “Why don’t you go spend some time with your brother. I… I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble. I know you’re short handed.” Helel frowns.

“Very sure.” She nods and pats his shoulder. Helel just shrugs and puts his apron in the laundry basket.

“Ellen! What the fuck was that?!” he hears as he takes off. When he gets to Dean’s house, he finds Michael in the nursery slowly rocking the baby in his arms to sleep.

“She needed a new diaper.” He says quietly as he gently rubs the sleepy baby’s back. “Bobby John will in a minute.”

“I’ll get it.” Helel

“I wouldn’t. I mean, you haven’t changed a diaper before, have you?” Sam cautions him.

“No, but It can’t be that hard.” Helel replies to his vessel.

“You have yet to be able to do any human thing by hand without some sort of disaster, Helel.”

“I have not! I made those drinks perfectly.”

“But you took forever on one of the busiest nights there.”

“I did not take ‘forever’ and I know it was busy, but that’s no excuse for half assing it.” Helel picks up the baby boy as he starts to fuss. “No it’s not, is it, Bobby John.”

“Is your vessel actually scolding you?” Michael puts the sleeping baby back down in her crib.

“He just doesn’t really trust me to do human things the human way after the accident with his motorcycle. Which I thought we were past by now.” Helel pointedly reminds Mule.

“Forgiving is not the same as forgetting.” his vessel retorts. Helel just sighs and rolls his eyes. Michael simply takes the fussing infant from his arms.

“I can do this, Michael.”

“Dean would prefer you didn’t.” Michael takes the boy to the changing table.

“Fine.” Helel crosses his arms. “I’ll just wait until Mule has a child and change it’s diapers.”

“I’m not having a child just so you can change it’s diapers!”

“I never said to…”

“And I’m not having children. I don’t want to have children. I’d be a shit father and a child would deserve better than a traumatized hellbound mess trying to raise it or be part of its life.”

“Will you stop being difficult? Just… go get some rest. I’ll wake you in the morning or if I need you during the meeting.”

“Do you mind telling me what that was about?”Michael wraps the freshly changed baby up in the blanket.

“My Mule needs companionship.” Helel sighs. “I’ve tried to encourage him, but Gabrielle… She absolutely destroyed him, Michael. I can’t be here all the time, and it’s not good for him to be all alone. I tried to get him to make things right with his brother so they’d have each other, but that didn’t really work out.” He leans against the wall as Michael gently dances this one back to sleep as well.

“After how your vessel behaved, I don’t think Dean should be forced to make things right.” Michael places the little boy in the crib next to his sister.

“They don’t do that anymore. Babies are supposed to sleep alone now. It’s supposedly safer.”

“This is good for them. If they can’t sleep with their parents they could at least sleep with each other. Night is not the time to be alone.” Michael gently caresses their tiny heads. “We can go. They should be good for a few more hours,” He nods and lets his brother take him to the conference room.

“Look, just… give Samuel a chance. You probably didn’t get a very good impression of him. Don’t forget he did it for you. To save you.” Helel sits down at a chair behind the table on the stage, and puts his feet up on the table.

“Actually I’m fairly sure he did it for you.” Michael corrects him. “You tend to have that effect on people.” Michael gives his adorably irritating little brother half a smile.

“Sometimes. But these Winchesters are tough nuts to crack. Even than don’t even pretend that blind faith or obedience will be involved. So, try to go easy on their mother. She’s used to being in charge.”

“I have noticed.” Michael actually smiles at this. “But so am I. We’ve discussed this and are doing our best for mutual respect and partnership. Granted I’m used to working with a partner as an equal.”

“Really? Who?” Helel frowns. Michael just gives him a look. “If that’s how you see it, sure, I guess.” Helel shrugs. “Your wings are starting to fill in. Is Mary still nursing you back to health?” Michael just gives an embarrassed nod at this. “She’s just taking care of her children any way she can. Even if it means helping you get home. This isn’t charity, so don’t get all out of sorts about it. Even you need to be taken care of sometimes, you know.” Helel reminds him. Michael just shakes his head and looks away.

“It won’t be a moment too soon. Dean made it very clear that he won’t be neglecting his or his wife’s needs for years. It’s been making me very uncomfortable.”Michael cringes. Helel just laughs at him.

“You and Mule are both such prudes. You know it’s a natural human need. And as long as she doesn’t get pregnant while you’re in th-” Helel is interrupted by a short busty marine grabbing him by the face and kissing him like there’s no tomorrow.  Michael just laughs at his brother’s bewildered expression as the angel flounders a little trying not to tip the chair over before pushing the woman away.

“Is that clear enough this time, Sarge?” She gives him a flirty wink.

“You want Mule.” Helel wipes off his mouth.

“You.. you’re not…” She looks confused and not nearly as mortified as she really should be.

“I’m his angel, Helel. Hold on, I’ll get him for you.” Helel quickly retreats, shoving Mule forwards. “You have a visitor.” he informs the tired soul.

“What? I what?” Mule frowns, taking his feet off the table. “I thought I was going to get to rest.”

“Sarge?” The marine asks cautiously.

“Yes?” He looks over to her and smiles. “Ange, hi.” He’s slightly more prepared than Helel was for the passionate kiss and doesn’t fight it in the least. He just pulls her in closer until she breaks away.

“You look good for a man who was caught in an explosion and died.” She smiles putting a hand to his cheek. “Did that tattoos make it?”

“Not a single one.” Mule sighs. “What are you doing here?”

“I was sent to work for the FBI on this thing. I hope you’re leading us because you’re the only reason we got out alive in Brazil. Never figured you for teaming up with a fallen angel, though.” She makes a face. “But if anyone could handle one, it’s you.”

“Act-”Mule starts

“We are not Fallen.” Michael snaps at the woman. “I am Michael, the commander of God’s army and the angel you molested was Helel Ben Sahar the viceroy of heaven. It would be good for you to remember that.” He gives her an unfriendly look which she ignores because she remembers damn well that he laughed and can’t be as big of a prick as he’s trying to come across.

“Hmmm. I guess that’s going to put a little crimp in your style, huh, Mule. Of course it is a remarkably easy way to have a threesome.”

“Don’t joke about Helel like that.” Mule says firmly. “And I am sorry but I’m not really in the place to pick up where we left off.” He kisses her cheek so she doesn’t feel too rejected. “It is nice to see you, though.”

“Davis, Grant and Matemilola are coming too. Plus Grants bringing his team. The ones that kept surviving anyways. No actual newbies for a mission like this.” Ange sits down on Mule’s lap, a little disappointed by what she doesn’t find. “But trust me, there won’t be any arguments over who’s in charge of this one, Sarge. Hopefully civilian life hasn’t made you too soft, though it certainly doesn’t feel like it.” She runs her hand over his abs.

“Don’t worry about me.” He removes her hand and places it on her own leg. “You won’t be alone on this. There’s be angels under Michael’s command. Ash, our resident genius will cover tech and my mother is in charge of the hunters. They’ll get more into that during the briefing so you should probably get off my lap and take a seat.” Mule lightly smacks her bottom as she gets up. “And keep it professional. We might be working together.”

“Yes, sir.” She salutes him and goes off to the nearest chair in the front row.

“Friend of yours?” Michael asks offhandedly.

“Not discussing this now.” Mule says curtly and gets to his feet. “I thought Nathaniel was supposed to be here with the documents by now.” 

“We required an extensive search,”Michael replies. “It’s possible that there were delays, but as far as I remember our librarian and his assistant have always been very reliable and timely in their assistance. Another useless angel that Helel refused to write off and surprised him greatly.  
“You seem nervous.” Helel comments.

“A little. I’ve never worked with mom before. Of course, I’m only here so you can be here. Where is Heinrickson anyways. The bosses were supposed to come a little early.”

“He will be here shortly. You are definitely not included in this operation, Sam. Helel has things to take care of in heaven and it’s better for you to stay home out of harms way. I don’t particularly feel like sacrificing my siblings to retrieve your soul from hell to resurrect you.” Michael gives him a stern look.

“Woah, woah, woah. Back it up a minute there.” Ange stands up holding out her hand. “You want to take on the Barachiels without First Sergeant Winchester? Are you insane? There is no way he’s going to hell, and if he was I know quite a few marines willing to go in there and fetch him back ourselves. So you don’t need to worry about your precious little angels.” She puts her hands on her hips.

“What was that?” A couple black men in fatigues enter the conference hall. “Sarge!” They head over to Mule as he gets to his feet, greeting them both with a handshake and back pat.

“Damn it’s good to see you again.”Davis gives him an extra squeeze. “First I heard you were dead. Then I heard you were crippled. I’d have come to see you but they’ve been keeping us busy. I was hoping you’d find your way here. I was not looking forwards to taking on the Barachiels again without you.”

“That is damned straight.” Matemilola nods. “Grant’s team is good and many of them survive their missions, but they have not yet faced what we have faced. Where is your Lieutenant? I have never seen you without him at your side.” The nigerian looks around for Aaron. “Is he getting coffee?”

“Aaron… Lieutenant Kine didn’t make it.” Mule says quietly. “None of them did.”

“I apologize.” Matemilola bows his head contritely. “It is a great loss to the U.S. Marine Corps but most of all to yourself. The loss of a brother is not to be taken lightly. But I am certain, even if you are not, that he is in heaven, watching over you as we speak.” He clasps his hands firmly on Mule’s shoulders. “To have taken such a blow as this. I understand your reluctance to take on a mission of this magnitude, but please, do not abandon us in this our time of need.”

“I’m not reluctant. My angel and our families apparently don’t want me involved.”

“Your angel? You are consorting with Fallen angels now?” Matemilola exclaims.

“Not Fallen angels, just angels.” Ange corrects before Michael can. “Apparently St. Lucifer himself has taken a shine to our Sarge and St. Michael’s using his brother.”

“That’s Dean?” Davis looks him over. “He’s a lot prettier than I expected him to be.”

“Really? The man won Prom Queen. He’s exactly as pretty as I expected him to be.” Ange grins. Mule can’t help but laugh to himself at that.

“Mule!” A large stocky blonde walks in, five men in tow. “Thank god! I thought I was going to have to lead these heathens bastards into hell myself.” Clarke strides over to Mule and gives his a bear hug, actually lifting him off his feet a little. The men behind him just stand to attention. “Men, let me introduce you to First Sergeant Samuel Henry Winchester. And Yes, that Sergeant Winchester.” He let’s go of Mule but keeps an arm around his shoulder as he leads Mule over to his men. To a man, they all salute.

“Sir, It’s an honor to meet you, Sir!” They all bark as one.

“At ease, men.” Mule grins at them. 

“Let me introduce them.” Grant points at the first one. “Probie, Newbie, Freshman, Young Blood, and Den Mother.”

Surprisingly neither of the two women are Den Mother, the Asian one is Young Blood, and the tallest meanest looking mother fucker of them all is Dean Mother. This marine looks a bit disconcerted when Sergeant Winchester stands face to face with him, possible an inch taller.

“Den Mother, compliment or sarcasm?” Mule asks. Den Mother’s cheeks turn a little red.

“Sir, a little of both, sir.” Den Mother replies.

“Sir, you should taste his chocolate chip cookies, Sir.” Young Blood volunteers embarrassing Den Mother even further.

“No names, Clarke” Mule turns to his freind.

“They haven’t earned names yet. Have you, men?” He barks at them

“Sir, No, Sir!” They all respond.

“They’ve only had weak ass shit to deal with so far. Isn’t that right, men?”

“Sir, Yes, Sir!”

“After and only after this mission is completed will they have earned their names. We’re not going to let some punk ass angel bitches get the best of us, are we men?!”

“SIR, NO, SIR!”

“Tough talk for people completely unequipped with weapons that can actually do the Fallen any harm at all.” Mary walks in, a duffel bag over her shoulder, and takes it to the table on stage. It drops down on it with several audible clinks.

“Fallen or not,” She continues. “Angels were trained as soldiers in God’s Army, by the greatest warrior in known history, Michael himself.” She gestures to the angel beside her. “Even the weakest angel is more than a match for most experienced hunters, and likely for you as well. So show a little goddamn respect.” Mary snaps at them, eyeing every marine in the room in turn. “Overconfidence can get you killed. I’m Mary Winchester, otherwise known as Mother Mary. I’ve been hunting fallen angels for over thirty years. I even faced the Nightingale herself, and not only came out of it alive, I stole her blade and wounded her so badly it took her years possibly decades before she showed her face on earth again. Do you know how?”

“Luck.” Mary asserts, not waiting for an answer. “She played with me like a kitten with a string. If she’d taken me seriously, I’d have been dead and my children would never have been born. I have advantages. I’m warded against angelic detection, and I have an archangel blade that will kill absolutely anything. I also have generations worth of spells, charms and lore at my disposal. You will each receive a copy of any and all information we have. You will be tested on the contents. This will take up half of your days while we prepare for the mission, the other half will involve you being trained by angels on the use of a proper weapon. The angels and hunters involved already know all this. Now, come on up and get your angel blades.” Mary unzips the duffel bag. Michael looks over at her in surprise.

“How did you get these?” He demands, more bewildered than angry.

“To the victor goes the spoils.” She replies and hands out blades and sheaths to the marines. “Most of the hunters already have theirs.”

“How many Fallen angels have you slain?”

“About two hundred and sixty seven.” Mary replies, looking Michael straight and unapologetically in the eyes. Michael just gives her an impressed and approving smile. “If you think that’s impressive. I gave birth to that.” She winks at a Marine who’s just staring at her, wide eyed, and nods over to Mule.

“I assume he was much smaller at the time.” Michael deadpans, making Mary grin.

“Sergeant Winchester! Your… Your mother is Mother Mary?” Matemilola’s eyes widen. “That explains quite a lot.” He steps up and firmly grasps Mary’s hand with both of his. “Mother Mary you have raised the greatest commander I have ever had the pleasure of working with. This man is a legend in the Corps. He has saved so many lives. So many lives. No mission he has led has ever failed.”

“Except the last one.” Mule corrects him.

“If you failed, then no one could have succeeded.” Matemilola says with absolute certainty. “I would follow you anywhere, even so.”

“This is not the man you knew.” Mary says firmly. “And he will not be participating in this mission. He is here as a vessel for St. Lucifer only.”

“I beg your pardon, but unless Sergeant Winchester himself does not wish to lead us, there is not a man in authority that would not put him in charge. They would beg him to lead this mission. Not a man here would not follow him were he half the man he once was.”

“We’re not doing this without him.” Clarke stands up. “I’d like to double our chances of making it out alive, if that’s alright by you.” He crosses his arms.

“Sorry, Men, but they’re in charge.” Mule gives them a half hearted smile.

“Actually.” A black man in a suit walks in. “I believe I am the one in charge of this operation.” He walks up to Michael. “Michael or Sherrif Winchester?” He asks.

“Michael at the moment.”

“I see. I can only assume that you and Mrs. Winchester are unfamiliar with First Sergeant Winchester’s track record, since you object to his participation. I was informed you were irreparably crippled, Sergeant. But you look alright to me.” He looks Mule over.

“I got better.” Mule shrugs. 

“If I’d known I’d have contacted you personally. Are you willing and able to lead your fellow marines?”

“Yes.” Mule doesn’t look at his mother.

“Very well, The marines are yours. Personally, I would think that the addition of the only man who has successfully run a mission against the Barachiels would be beyond valuable, regardless of recent events.” Heinrickson looks steadily at Mary and Michael. The nod and takes their seats. Mule just thanks god that he doesn’t live with his mother any more.


	43. Eulogy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helel has a few things to say to Mary.  
> Michael and Mary bond over motherhood  
> Michael mourns the sister he once knew

“Sam,” Mary knocks on his door. “I need to talk to you.” He doesn’t answer. “Sam.” She knocks harder. “I know you’re in there.”

“He’s resting. Besides, he doesn’t want to talk to you. I don’t intend to make him, either.” Who must be Helel responds coldly. There’s actually a slight chill to the area that worries Mary slightly.

“Can I talk to you then?” Mary asks a bit softer.

“No.”

“You know Sam’s not okay, Helel. He’s not going to come out of this undamaged. It’s not neccessary for him to take an active role.” She leans her forehead against the door. “If you cared about him at all, you wouldn’t let him do this.” Helel opens the door at this.

“I don’t want him to do this.” He snaps. “I’m afraid. Afraid he’ll get hurt, afraid he’ll break, or relapse afterwards. I’m even afraid he’ll get killed and I’ll have to know his soul is in hell with Gabrielle no matter how quickly we can retrieve him. I’m afraid I’ll lose my best friend. Don’t you dare say I don’t care about him.

“I just happen to have faith in him. I trust him and I respect him .He is not a small child and not even close to helpless or neive. He is a marine and a good man. I would never try to keep him from fulfilling his obligations, nor would I encourage him to abandon his principles, or his comrades. I also won’t do anything to infringe upon his autonomy. Father gave us all free will and I’ll be damned if I don’t respect that right for every creature alive. “Samuel is doing what he believes is right. And I agree it is the right thing to do.

“My not wanting him to do this is selfish. My desire not to be without him is incredibly selfish. Aside from my very valid concern for his wellbeing, my objection is just me not being the angel I should be. You and Michael are being just as selfish and self-centered.And incredibly hypocritical. The risk of having Samuel go on this mission is only to himself and no more of less of a risk than any other human being is doing. However Michael is another story.”

“Excuse me?” Mary puts her hands on her hips. “Michael is a seasoned warrior and furthermore there’s nothing they have that could hurt or kill him.”

“Michael is in no shape to be involved in a mission like this is anything but an advisory role. Especially given his lack of control. People could get hurt that we don’t want hurt and information could get destroyed that we absolutely do not want to be destroyed. But no, it’s samuel you want to exclude.” Helel slams the door shut between them.

Mary just sighs and walk down the hall way back to Michael, who’s waiting for her in her hotel room.

“You’ll have to forgive my brother. He tends to be a little over dramatic at times.” Michael apologizes.

“And here I was, just thinking he loves the sound of his own voice.” Mary says dryly and plops down on the bed. Michael gives a small laugh.

“That, too. He does have a point though.” Michael sits down on the chair he moves over to her beside. “About me. Unfortunately the more I learn about this place we’re taking, the more I fear I may become a liability if I’m in the field as I wish to be.” The angel confesses.

“You haven’t been with me.” Mary reaches over and pats his leg.

“I seem to have a way of destroying electronics in anger without physically damaging them when my temper flares. Which it often does and over such little things. I can’t imagine how I’ll react seeing the people and children they’ve stolen. My presence would also likely cause extreme panic among the fallen angels involved. It’s possible they would just flee back to hell once they detected my presence or start to eliminate witnesses and evidence. Or at least start the process with the others involved.” Michael tightens his lips at the thought. “I don’t understand this technology they’ve developed or the weapons and it’s been a very long time since I’ve led angels into battle. I’ve never done so without actually physically leading the charge myself.” Michael slumps down in the chair a little.

“No one would blame you if you had a less active role. I know you well enough to know you’d never shy away from doing what needs to be done. I should think your angels would as well.” Mary loo who;s bks over at him with a gentle smile.

“I’m not sure of that anymore. My judgement… is not what I believed it to be.”

“Tell me about it.” Mary sighs, knowing exactly who he’s referring to and confident that 

he knows who she’s talking about. She scoots over to the other side of the large bed and pats the space between her and Michael. “Lie down before you slide off that chair onto the carpet.”

“You may be my vessel’s mother, Mary, but that doesn’t make you mine.” Michael scolds her though he moves to lie down beside her anyway.

“True. But if anyone could use a little mothering, it’s you.” She kisses the top of his head, and starts gently rubbing Michael’s tense back. “Our judgement is always compromised when it comes to those we love. It’s why we don’t murder our spouses and children.” Michael laughs a little at this.

“I understand that, only in regards to my brother and siblings. I love all of them. I helped raise, teach, and train every one of them at some point. Even if I can’t remember a million names like Helel and Raphael can, doesn’t mean they’re not all important to me. I remember fields of fledgelings all eager to play and dance and do wing exercises with us. But that was before mankind was even a distant possibility to us, when everything was wonderful. Not because Humanity wasn’t there.” Michael quickly clarifies. “But because Gabriel was just my  mischievous overly playful little songbird. You don’t know what it destroyed, all you know is the monster that replaced her.” His voice fails him and he let’s Mary draw him closer to let his head rest upon her shoulder.

“What do you mean? What’s it and what did it destroy?” She urges gently. She doesn’t want to hear it. God knows she doesn’t want to risk getting any sympathy for that evil bitch, but Michael needs to talk to someone about it. He clearly can’t talk to Helel or he would be.

“In the beginning I was the only created being. Father made me and a little pocket of nothing to hide me from the darkness in. You know it as heaven now, but at first there was nothing but space for me to test myself and my form and wings and energy. Finally I’d tested all my limits and didn’t know what else to do. I wanted my father but he wasn’t there. He was starting to create some things. I tried to find the exit so I could go to him, but he caught me and created the garden for me. It wasn’t Eden yet. It was just a field of tall grass to run, dig, play, rest and create in. 

“It took a while before I learned how to interact with it properly and discover all the things I could do with it, but even with things to do, I grew unhappy in a way I couldn’t explain. Now I know it was loneliness. Father was almost never there and I never knew when he would be. Helel always thought it must have been wonderful for me, having father all to myself all the time. But the truth is  Father was almost never there and I never knew when he would be. I saw him more and more as he created more of us and until I was caged, I saw him more on the eighth Day than all the other seven combined. I didn’t know what was wrong, until he made Helel.

“This small angel of crystal clear water and ice blue eyes, wings like waterfalls, hair like a flowing river. I didn’t have the words for those yet. All I saw was my father’s glory shining through something I had never seen the like of before. He was a drop of Father’s awesome beauty small enough for me to hold and when Father handed him to me, he smiled and I could see myself smiling back at me, only better. That’s what you see when you see Helel, what you are and what you could be. The only things who’s light he didn’t improve upon was Father’s. He was the embodiment of Father’s Beauty in a way we could see without being overwhelmed by it.

“As soon as I held him I knew I never, ever wanted him to be alone like I was. I let him have time with Father but refused it myself because if I’d taken it he would have been left alone and I couldn’t bear for him to have to feel that. It was hard, but it wasn’t too much of a difference. It was clear Father preferred Helel’s company to mine. But I didn’t care, because Helel was the most wonderful thing Father had done for me. In all of creation there’s no one I’ve ever loved more, no matter what he thinks

“Unfortunately, Helel was not nearly as delighted with Raphael’s creation as I was. I didn’t really understand why. Raphael was so sweet and caring and loving. He could never bear to see anyone hurt or injured that first day. He’d burst into tears as if he felt the pain himself. To be honest it’s likely he did, his empathy was so great. You should have seen him, Mary, he was solid as a rock, soft as the earth with mossy wings so soft and gentle. His light was so soft and soothing, his smile so small and adorable. He looked at me like I was the greatest thing in creation. He always wanted to be by my side. Even more than he ever did, Helel. It was nice having someone who loved me more than they did Father or Helel. It’s not that he didn’t love and adore Father, but he was so overwhelmed by his presence, he’d often hide beneath my wings, holding onto my robe. In his eyes it seemed that I was never second best. If Helel was father’s beauty, Raphael was the embodiment of his love.

“Helel became upset. Before he’d either had Father to himself or me to himself, rarely both of us at once, with him as the center of attention, but that changed when Raphael came.  Raphael was so young, he had to be taught and taken care of and Helel absolutely refused to help with him more than he absolutely had to. And he had to share him with me all the time. I refused to let Raphael be left all alone just to spend time with him, though I always wanted Helel with me. Helel never got to spend time alone with me unless Father was with Raphael. And Raphael never got to be alone with me unless Father was with Helel. Helel hated it when they were left alone together so I could see father and eventually Raphael started to hate it as well.  Helel… has never been good at having to share the things he loves.”

“I hear you.” Mary gives a laughing smile. “Dean was not thrilled at the thought of having a little brother or sister. He hated it when I had to stop paying attention to him to take care of little Sammy. He became a little reconciled when Sam did nothing but eat and sleep and poop. Since age four is when potty humor is the height of hilarity. When their father died, though it was little Sammy who got his big brother to smile and laugh again. I take it that reconciliation never happened with Helel and Raphael.”

“They… tolerated each other eventually. That was for Gabrielle’s sake, though.” Michael confesses. “Father made her of wind and sunshine shining golden through the clouds. Of course she was often more like a tornado, all chaos and confusion from the very beginning. It was so hard keeping her in heaven, though there was more of it by this time. We each had our own rooms to get time to ourselves should we need it. With Gabrielle added to the mix, I did end up needing to rest my mind and relax in solitude every now and then.

“As soon as she figures out there was something else out there, she kept trying to find a way to either get out or look and see what was outside. It took Helel to finally get her to stay put, though I had told her so many times in so many different ways not to do either of those things. She always found a way around it. The phrase ‘well, you didn’t ‘say’…’ still makes me want to rip out my own wings. Not that, that’s much of an option at the moment. I mean, Helel was difficult and opinionated and frustrating, but he wasn’t nearly so dedicated to doing what he knew I didn’t want him to do the way she was.

“She was so exhausting. I was the only one physically capable of keeping up with her boundless energy. I was even able to wear her out after Helel and Raphael needed to take a break. We used to dance and play until she either couldn’t dance or play anymore or Helel and Raphael had recovered enough to deal with her again. Raphael found her just as confusing and frustrating as I did most of the time. Especially her pranks.

“But Helel, she was his little darling. Much like Raphael was mine, I admit. We were like parents each with our favorite children who each had their favorite parent. Gabrielle would be happy just sitting still and looking at him, or listening to Helel sing or talk, whatever he was doing. It was pretty much the only time she willingly stayed still, though even then her wings would flutter and twitch with her emotions and excitement. She could always make him laugh, too. Like one time, after Helel and I had an intense argument, Helel was still so angry his wings were completely frozen and he had a tinge of frost everywhere. Gabrielle snuck up behind him and started playing his frozen feathers like chimes. I was about to storm in and toss her impudent golden butt out of the room, but Helel after his initial shock, just started laughing and swept her up in his thawing wings into a hug.

“She loved him more than anything. If that monster is still capable of loving anything or anyone, it would be him. She’d do anything for him, sacrifice anything, and she did. I can’t blame her for what she did. I can’t. I can only blame myself for not being faster to act. You see we weren’t the only thing father tried to create. He’d tried several times before us, but the darkness just consumed it all each and every time. If he was to really create the wondrous life pressing to be born, he’d have to trap her and make her unable to destroy it. And we, his first creations, were to help him. It was my job to make sure we knew how to protect and care for each other when we finally set foot outside of heaven.

“Father didn’t tell anyone but Helel what he had planned. He planned for the most beautiful and clever of us all to seduce and trick the darkness into being sealed into an eternal prison. We didn’t know, so when Helel was finally told to go to her, I was stunned. He was Father’s favorite, always has been, and always will me.” Michael sounds so proud and adoring of his brother, it’s as if he doesn’t really mind. Though the words about Raphael let Mary know better. “But a moment before Helel went to take that first step towards the darkness, he hesitated and I saw he was afraid. Gabrielle must have seen it as well and she was faster. She’s always been the fastest of all of us. Often not taking the time to think.

“And she laughed. She laughed right in the darknesses face and called her an idiot. After a few unkind, unfair statements about Helel’s flaws and attributes which weren’t entirely true, or nearly as important as she made them out to be. But either the hurt look on Helel’s face as she said it or the unfortunate glance of agreement from Raphael, the Darkness believed her and after a demonstration she accepted Gabrielle’s offer to go with her instead. We tried to stop her, Helel, Raphael both tried, even father took her in his arms distressed, but he didn’t. I understand now he couldn’t, it was too late and he had to continue with the plan, not only that but he couldn’t even tell her about it. He just told her he loved her and he was so sorry. It was too late to change the Darkness’ mind again. She had already heard Gabrielle sing.

“You’ve never heard her sing. Not truly sing. None of humanity has. The sound of her voice would make you weep with any and every emotion you possessed. She sang the songs of creation to the Darkness, which as she pointed out, you didn’t need to see to enjoy, though her light shone so bright with so many colors and patterns to mirror the tones, colors you’ll never be able to see. Father let her go, telling the Darkness that under no circumstance should she lay a hand on Gabrielle even in affection, or she would break. 

“It didn’t take long before she did it anyways. Before we’d even stopped fighting off that the darkness had already wharped and left behind her, we heard Gabrielle cry out in pain so deep that I could hear her being torn into pieces. Raphael immediately took off as the earth shuddered and quaked beneath us. Helel immediately followed him, leaving me alone to destroy the things myself, though all I wanted to do was race to her side. But it was alright. Raphael could heal her if there was anything left, and she loved Helel where she only occasionally liked me. 

“It didn’t matter. I didn’t have to hold back anymore and made short work of them, though there were so many and I expended too much energy, much like I did in the cage, but with less damage to myself. I thought I would drop into the sea, but Father caught me and brought me back to my room to rest and recover in safety.  After that he brought the other’s back as well and immediately left all of us there with nothing but each other.

“It was the first time I felt angry with him. Not for whatever plans he’d made, or for my not knowing. He never told us everything about anything. I never expected him to, but he just… he just left her there. She was so badly, and in so much pain, and he left. I suppose that’s just what he does when you disappoint him. Even if you didn’t have a clue what you were supposed to do. What I did, or didn’t do…. What I should have done, or left undone…” Mary just holds him as the poor angel’s searing hot tears fall onto her shirt. She gently shushes him and tells him everything’s alright until he can compose himself again. 

“Raphael and Helel never left her side until she was all healed.” Which Mary understands to mean Michael was left to recover all on her own. “All that was left was this mark on her arm, black on her arm. In a vessel it burns through red.”

“I didn’t notice a mark, but she is tricky. I’m sure she knew how to hide it.” Mary comments.

“She never like people to see it. At first she just pulled down the sleeve of her robe as far as she could. It just hung on her lopsided, one side snug up against her wing and neck. The other side just fell off her shoulder as she held the hem in her hand. It would have looked cute if I didn’t know what she was doing and why. 

“Other angels who adored her started wearing their robes like that because they didn’t know why. I hated it. I made them stop and wear their robes right. Some even protested because Gabrielle wore hers that way. I wanted to explain, I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it, and Gabrielle didn’t want anyone to know. I just asked if they were Gabrielle. When they said no I replied ‘That’s why you can’t wear your robe that way.’ It sounds so stupid and petty and unreasonable when I think about it now. Especially knowing they didn’t know.” 

“I understand. You find yourself in weird positions as a mother. Saying things you’d never thought you’d say, like ‘please get your finger out of my nose’, ‘here brush your teeth with this ice cream’ and ‘if you must stand in the window, at least put some pants on’.” Mary sighs, but Michael actually chuckles at this.

“Dean or Sam?” Michael can’t help but ask.

“One is Dean, one is Sam and one was to both. The rest of that information I take to my grave.” Mary zips her lips shut.

“Understood. I once had to ban the color purple for almost an entire Day. Which was difficult because some of my siblings were purple in part. One unfortunate fledgeling was entirely shades of purple. Fortunately they were more than willing to be put in a separate unit and trained by Helel, Raphael and me. They’re actually a fairly elite unit composed of several types of angels, now. They’ll be working with us on the extractions. I still don’t understand how things got to that point though. I doubt I ever will.” Michael gives an exasperated sigh. “Oddly enough it did end up alerting me to some problems developing, so while irritating, it was strangely helpful.

“ For a long time, it seemed like everything was going to be alright. That Gabrielle was a lright and would continue to be the same chaotic, prank pulling, restless, reckless, fun , singing, loving angel she’d always been. A pain in my neck of course, but not as often. She ended up clinging to Raphael more and more. She loved the fledgelings and they loved her and the fun and unpredictability she brought. Her games, jokes, laughter and songs always delighted them. At first.

“But the games slowly became more dangerous. The jokes were crueler.  Her laughter was meaner. Her songs…. Her songs became almost discordant and wrong in a way I couldn’t place. Only when she was with Helel or Raphael would she ever be the angel we knew. She began to hate me, more and more. Probably because I was the one trying to make her stay in line and take responsibility for her behavior. Helel would talk to her, but it did less and less good. Raphael, all he’d do is coddled her and held her doing everything he could to ease her pain. She was always so much better after he did. She was in so much pain, all the time,and I knew that. 

“I wanted to take her into my arms and just tell her everything was going to be okay, that I’d never let anything like that hurt her again. I wanted to excuse her behavior, take it easy on her, but I had to think about all the other angels,too. They didn’t deserve to hurt and cry and feel afraid just because Gabrielle was in pain. Eventually we at least got her to apologize to the siblings she hurt in some way, especially since she claimed that she never meant to hurt them. But it just got worse and worse.

“She wasn’t allowed to be in the garden alone once our father created humanity. But she always managed to get separated from the brother she was with. Adam and Eve grew upset and frightened of her. When they were told by one of her illusions that the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil would help them save themselves from her and her tricks, they believed it and ate the quince. It was one of the two trees they were specifically told not to eat from. I was sure, then, that Helel and Raphael would agree she had gone too far.

“They didn’t. Helel tried to defend her. Raphel just wouldn’t say anything condemn her or to contradict Helel, though by them it was almost a garuntee that he'd have some smart remark to whatever Helel said. Then… in order to escape punishment, she killed Amitiel, the angel of truth. Amitiel was the only angel who could tell when anyone was lying or telling the truth and what kind of truth and lies they were. With something so serious as this, Amitiel was sure to be called forwards. 

“ That was when I knew that the little sister I loved was well and truly dead. There was nothing left behind but a mockery of darkness held within a hollow shell of my little song bird. Helel was so heart broken and what was worse, Father decided that he was to be the one to cast her from heaven. Once again he was asked to do something that would break him. At least I could save him from it that time. So I stepped forwards and convinced our father to let me do it instead.

“I didn’t expect Raphael to go after her. Helel didn’t even… he didn’t even try to stop him. I know… I know Raphael only ever wanted to help her, heal her wounds, keep her as pure and loving and innocent as she used to be. But instead she took him and his love and warped it into something obscene and disgraceful. She took him from me and I didn’t even realize how far he was gone until it was too late. I can never forgive her for what she’s done. If she wasn’t the only thing keeping the darkness at bay…. I loved my little songbird, but she’s dead and gone and will never come back. All I can feel for the monster that’s replaced her is hate.”

There’s nothing to say after this, so Mary just holds onto the angel torn between grief and rage, and sings softly to him until the emotionally exhausted angel falls asleep.


	44. Mule's Last Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay. I got a horrible case of writer's block. I knew what I wanted to happen but I didn't know how to make it happen. Mary and Michael's bromance started taking over sometimes. Ange just would not stop coming on to Mule and when I wrote it she just ended up pissing off both Mule and Helel and just... grrr. it was awful. I even ended up rewriting the last page completely when I typed it up. Fortunately, there are only a couple chapters left before it's done. Hopefully the next one will come easier.

      “Hey,” Ange nudges Mule as he looks over the plans again. “This’ll be easy. I can’t believe the amount of intel we have on this place. Working with heaven is a dream come true.”

“I won’t be easy. We’re dealing with humans and supernatural creatures. We won’t always know which is which every time.”Mule reminds her a bit off handedly like he’s barely paying attention to her. Which he is probably true since he’s going over the materials again, like always.

“Yeah, but unlike the angels, we’re fine with that.”

“Angels can tell and that’s not what I’m talking about.” Mule corrects her. “It’s about using the right weapons and conserving ammunition.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Clarke snaps his fingers and hands a gun with a very large magazine over to Mule. “We have these now, specifically for dealing with  Barachiels since you don’t always know what you’re going to get.” He holds up the magazine and points out the bullets. “Silver, iron, copper, blessed hardened wood, and witch killing hollow points, filled with holy water, dead man’s blood, silver nitrate, and wolfsbane. Each press of the trigger shoots all five one after the other. These will take out or injure most things. Unless they’re needed for interrogation, the policy is once to the head, once to the body, when they’re down, behead. If you can take and burn the heads, do it. If not then just place a closed door between them and the bodies or make them otherwise separate. As you can see it’s using your ammo suggestions. And some of the sigils keep some supernatural creatures from taking and using it.”

“Nice. What about pagan gods? These should injure them but not kill them. And I wouldn’t trust beheading either.” Sam looks the weapon over.

“They’re more likely to be pissed at the Barachiel’s stealing their worshippers especially to use as food for supernatural creatures or turned into monsters. Some who just need sacrifices buy a few people always through a middle man. They never visit any of the locations, so we won’t have to worry about them.” Clarke shakes his head. “You have the new body armor, right? It’s covered with protective sigils on the inside of the fabric over the tempered steel alloy. The inside of it is some of that strong as steel spider silk. It’s specially made for our units. I’ve already arranged for them to be made for the hunters that are helping us. They should be done by tonight and some of the angels are helping go pick them up. So, they should all have them by morning. Including mother Mary.” He reassures Mule, though he doesn’t need it. Mary can take care of herself, besides which she has Michael beside her.

“Good to know.” He nods. “Did everyone get their mini scuba gear? An angel should have dropped one or two off to each of you last night.”

“Yes, sir. Seems a bit excessive, but we’ve got them.” 

“Good. They have a larger amount of water usage than you’d expect for a compound this big. There’s bound to be a water trap somewhere.” Mule straightens up and looks at his men. “Is there anything else we need to discuss that didn’t come up in briefing yesterday?”

“I did want to ask you a question though. Just between us four.” Matemilola joins the make-shift circle. “Do you have a reason to live?”

“Because I don’t want to go to hell and see my ex?” Mule gives him an odd look.

“No, that’s a reason not to die. I’m talking about a reason to live. What or who do you have waiting for you? Who’d suffer from your loss, even temporarily? After the mission, what do you have waiting for you?” 

Mule just looks at him, not only because that’s a hell of a fucking thing to ask right before a mission, but because for the life of him he doesn’t have an answer. Well maybe one answer but it feels a little awkward or embarrassing to say.

“Helel, I guess. He needs a vessel if he wants to get any sort of relaxation at all. He works too hard and needs to be able to unwind a little. I especially don’t want him to have to be without one while Michael’s stuck on earth.”

“I buy that.” Ange gives a nod and goes back to sit down.

“I suppose it’s enough. We just wanted to make sure you weren’t suicidal, even passively.” Clarke pats his back. Mule just sighs and shakes his head.

“Even what?” Matemilola asks.

“Passively suicidal. It’s when you don’t want to die, enough to try and actively cause your own death, you just don’t care if you live or die, kind of hope you die, and want to go out of your way to prevent yourself from dying. You do know that either kind of suicidal ideation would be a liability on this mission, right Sarge? We’re not leaving your corpse behind if you die, understand? So you’ve got to be honest with us, Sarge.” Clarke looks him directly in the eye.

“Do you really think that whatever I am or am not feeling, I would ever do anything to jeopardize the mission or a single member of my team, Clarke?” The cold, challenging look that Mule gives him is surprisingly reassuring.”Granted I understand having a little less faith in me, given what happened the last time I had a mission.”

“We are actually more concerned about what happened afterwards.” Matemilola says gently, placing a hand on their sergeants shoulder. 

“Ah, getting engaged to the devil, drugs, theft, selling my soul, jail probation, my morally questionable actions I engaged in to complete my new mission. I assume you interrogated my friends and family since I didn’t want to talk about it.” Mule folds up the blueprints.

“You’re not usually that sloppy.” Clarke ignores the accusation, though that’s exactly what he and Ange did.

“I know, the whole this was a mess. It was too personal and got to me. Unfortunately there wasn’t anyway around it. Helel had told me to trust my brother, but Dean had already betrayed me. I should have trusted my instincts. Helel… he didn’t really understand our relationship, or lack thereof. I don’t think he really could. Helel was my only support, and my brother cut that off without my knowing. It was a mission I never would have taken on, but it had to be done and I was the only one who could help him do it. And I did it, whatever it took. He was a little pissed, too, but he understood.”

“You didn’t have to be alone. You know that anyone who’s ever worked with you would drop everything and come running if you’d asked. If we couldn’t, we’d have found someone who could. You didn’t have to go it alone. I know a few people who’ve retired that would have gladly helped out. We’re family, Sarge, and always will be. The blood of the battle field is thicker than the waters of birth.” She kisses his cheek. 

“Alright. Are we done with this little impromptu intervention? Can we get back to work?” Mule just ignores her, as he usually did.

“That depends,” She winks. “Is your angel willing to leave a little early so I can give you something else to live for?” Ange rests her chin on Mule’s shoulder.

“We’re going to review the plan, then get some rest. We leave at three a.m. I’ll pick up the drive from Ash first.” Mule spreads out the specific map. “We’re going in first. The angels will drop us off on the roof right after the shift change. As far as we can tell it’s only humans guarding the passage ways we need, empty vessels. We’ll need silent kills, so knives or tranquilizers only. Once we get to the access point right over the elevator inside the shaft, we take the repair tunnels down to here. This is where it gets a little tricky…”

 

Mary looks down and checks her watch. Just a few more minutes before they should get the go ahead.

“I have faith in your son, Mary. He’ll lead them well.” Michael states, standing beside her. “They’ll come out alright.”

“What makes you so sure?” Mary takes out a cigarette. “Don’t tell my boys.” She lights it and takes a long deep drag on it, giving a relaxed sigh as she exhales. “I told them I quit years ago, so I don’t do when I’m home, just after a particularly difficult hunt. I think this hunt deserves a little pre-emptive indulgence.”

“What makes me sure.” Michael ignores her little justification for her vice. “Is how the men react to him. More specifically how Clark’s men reacted to him. Like he was a living legend. Much like some of the younger hunters look at you. There was also the respect Agent Heinrickson had for him. Dean spoke with him personally, questioning the decision to include Sam in this mission. The Agent simply replied that he was in fact including First Sergeant Samuel Henry Winchester of the U.S. Marine Corp, Special Forces, a highly decorated, incredibly successful leader of a secret unit, and not Dean Winchester’s annoying smart mouth little brother. I felt it best to withhold my judgement. I don’t have the knowledge of your son that either you or his comrades in arms do. But I do know what it takes to win a man’s undying loyalty and respect. Samuel obviously has it. So at the very least, in regards to this mission, I’m not too worried.” He puts his hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“I don’t like him being out there. I never wanted this kind of life for him, Michael. For either of them. Dean somehow made a good workable life, where he could have a life and be reasonably safe and happy even while being involved in the hunter community. Sam… Sam was always just difficult.” Mary takes another puff. “I should have quit hunting a long time ago.”

“You say that as if you ever really could.” Michael smiles at her. Mary just checks her watch again and takes out her radio. “Elmer One, this is Mother Mary, What’s your situation? Over.”

“Elmer One, responding. We have the data. We’ll be at the extraction point in ten minutes. Proceed with the civilian S’n’R. Over.”

“Alright, love you, baby boy. Over.”

“Jesus Christ…. Love you, too. Over.”  There’s some laughter overheard in the background.

“Alright, time to send them in.” Mary looks to Michael, who nods.

“It’s done.” Michael manifests his blade. “Shall we?” Mary just smiles and unsheathes her blade.

 

“It was easy getting in here, but I get the feeling it won’t be so easy getting out again.” Mule’s cautious as he puts the drive back in it’s heavy duty waterproof heat resistant bag. Clarke, Matemilola and Ange, nod. Though the nameless ones, a little worse for the wear, just look at each other at this statement.  “Ange have you set up the charges?”

“Almost, Sarge.  There we go.” She looks down from where she stands on top of Clarke’s shoulders. “The explosives are on the sigils, there’s one surrounding the computer at it’s weak point between the wall and the ‘cage’. I’ve given us a ten minute head start. Given the way the room is set up it shouldn’t really sound like more than someone tipping over a refrigerator in the apartment two floors above. It won’t do much to the thick metal walls surrounding the concrete, it’ll get rid of those sigils at least. Make things a bit easier for the rest of them.

“Alright, let’s go.” Mule stands up. Clarke and his men go out the secret tunnel with Ange. When Mule nears the doorway a thick metal grate slams down between them. “Shit. Clark, here.” Mule takes out the drive and tosses it through the bars. “We’ll go back the way we came. Get this to the extraction point.”

“Do not worry about us.” Matemilola reassures them, coming closer to Mule. “Tell Mother Mary I will take care of her baby boy.”

“Here.” Ange tosses him a remote. “The green button turns it off, and the red button sets it off immediately. If you want to set the timers, you have to do that manually.” Mule nods and presses the green button. The timer stops. She hands it to him, and goes off with the rest. When the two remaining marines head to the other doorway, a grate slams down over it as well.

“So, are we fucked or is this just a minor inconvenience?” Matemilola asks grabbing hold of and testing the strength of the bars.

“We’ll be alright.” Mule starts to remove the plastique from around the thick, plastic lined, bullet proof glass dome where it meets the wall. “I’ll set this up around one of the doors so we can try to blow it open.If we use little enough of it, it won’t set off the others.” He walks over to it, as Matemilola looks at the computer.

“I’m going to see if this is connected to whatever security system they have in place here. There was no record of it. 

“Well, tread carefully. Because there is a record of a big pit underneath here with a few odd waste chutes that seemingly has no real purpose, but I’m fairly sure there’s something that will send us falling into…” Mule is just able to grab hold of the grate as the floor just plain disappears. “Musah!” He looks over towards the computer to see the man grabbing onto the container where the edge of where he puts his hands in. 

“I only touched the space bar!” The marine exclaims.

“Hold on.” Mule takes a safety line on his belt and hooks it onto the grate. “Alright I’m going to secure my hold on the grate and I want you, with one hand to pull out your safety line and throw the hook to me.” He wraps his arm through a few squares and holds on firmly. Matemilola slowly reaches down for the hook and holds the rope in his mouth to let him pull it out far enough to reach Mule, and then some. It takes a couple tries but Mule catches it and hooks it onto the grate.  “Better?”

“Much.” Matemilola wraps his hand in the line and lets go of the computer. His feet hit the wall and he and Mule slowly descend into the dark pit below.

“So, Musah, you’re the honest one. Which of you three had the bright idea of having Ange come to my room to ‘give me something to live for’ last night?” Mule asks as they reach the bottom. 

“Ange’s of course. Clarke merely asked her to go put your ass to sleep. I seconded the motion because last I knew you never slept before a mission and it makes you cranky. You looked very much as if you were just going to stay up all night and worry, worry, worry. Besides you are not in your twenties anymore, you cannot get away with that now.”

“She could file a complaint against you two, you know that.” Mule unhooks the line from his belt.

“It’s Ange, she jokes that way all the time. Besides which she is very much in love with you.” Matemilola does the same. 

“We hadn’t seen each other in ten years. She’s just a flirt. Besides which I’m not going to sleep with one of my subordinates. She is fairly persuasive. I feel asleep when she gave me a back massage.” Mule shakes his head.

“Don’t act as if we don’t know about the family bathroom in the airport.” Matemilola

takes out a set of connected light balls from his backpack and twists it, illuminating the area. “What the hell is that!” he whispers pointing to a pile of bones and corpses filled with strange veiny snot colored bulges.

“That’s ‘climb back up right fucking now’,” Mule reaches over to grab the line from the wall, but it’s too late. The mound lunges out of the pile. The bullets do absolutely nothing to slow it down. Mule draws the angel blade from his pack just in time to slice at the giant maggotty looking thing. Unfortunately it doesn’t stop it from trying to bite his shoulder off. It’s teeth start to break through the body armor. “Fire! Use Fire!”  Unfortunately a miniature flame thrower is not among their supplies. So Mule starts trying to pry apart the rougarou’s jaws with his blade.  

After a moment, the rougarou turns it’s head just in time to see flaming cloth come down over it’s head and back. It starts to scream as Matemilola grabs Mule by the pack and pulls him as far from the rougarou as he can. Mule is temporarily distracted by the marine’s lack of pants. 

“Yes, I cut off my pants and set them on fire with my lighter. No, I have not quit smoking, I just smoke something healthier.” 

“Ah.” Is all he can say before water starts to stream from the other door like a burst pipe and start to fill up the basement. Where upon the rougarou remembers to stop drop and roll. “Under the computer, I’m detonating.” They crush down against the wall under the computer area, back to the room. The explosion is deafening. Chunks of concrete rain down upon them, crushing the rougarou beneath it. The grate falls down to the bottom as well. 

“Good job. We’re not dead.” Matemilola grimaces. “Though that piece of concrete may have broken my leg.” Mule looks down to see the marine’s leg bent in the middle of the shin where it should not be bent in any way shake of form. “It’s better than being eaten by a rougarou.”

“We should probably put on our scuba gear.” Mule and Matemilola open their packs and take out the breathing mask and goggles. “What the…” Mule pauses as he sees the twenty air capsules shoved into the middle of the bag. “Um, here.” he hands ten of them to Matemilola as the water reaches their shoulders. They both pull a cord on the straps of their packs and what look like gigantic yellow water wings blow up and out of the sides, as well as the strap for around their waist that they snap together. Mule sends a quick prayer up to Helel but nothing happens. As the water rises, and them with it, he can see that the thick metal walls have angel and archangel wards carved as deeply into them  that are exactly the same as the wards on the entry and exit tunnels to this room and the concrete.

When the water reaches the top, they can see that the concrete over the now grateless door has just fallen down in a solid piece completely blocking the exit. The grate on the other side is holding firm.

“We’ll go out the chutes.” Mule informs Matemilola. “That’s where they threw the bodies down, it’ll get us at least up out of the water. But be prepared to fight. Can you swim?”

“Can I swim?” The marine sounds offended. “You are asking a marine if he can swim, I would never have thought this of you. I am very disappointed.”

“Your leg, you dipshit.” Mule snaps. “Can you swim with it.”

“Not very well.” He admits. 

“Alright tie yourself to my waist. And give yourself a few feet so I don’t kick you in the face. I’ll get us out of here.”

“You are bleeding.” The marine notices the blood in the water very clearing coming from Mule’s neck and shoulder.

“I’ll wrap it up when we reach dry land.” Mule turns to let his man get a rope from his pack before deflating Matemilola’s flotation device, then his own. Fortunately the corpse vents were designed for the largest of individuals to pass through, so they don’t have to discard their packs. There’s no end to the water and they need to replace the compressed air capsules a few times, but the water makes getting Matemilola up the vents with his broken leg a lot easier.  Finally they reach a room filled with water, and with an open, shorted out elevator. 

Unfortunately Mule can see archangel wards all over the walls keeping him from calling Helel. They are absolutely every where so he just goes into the elevator and goes out the repair panel into the shaft. It takes a ten floors to reach the top, The water has stopped and in fact is starting to go down again, so he grabs hold of the nearest elevator door to the top of the water and wedges the angel blade in between them, starting to pry them open when he feels a tug at the cord of his waist. He turns to see a strange but beautiful mermaid before him reaching out for his head. Not hesitating he drives the blade into her chest with all the strength he has.  

A sound like a dying whale shrieks through the water as he draws it out, letting an inky blackness pool out and mix with the blood still trickling from his shoulder. The one eating the struggling Matemilola’s face breaks away, attacking Mule with a similar cry. It catches his wrist before he can strike at it and bites through it, making him drop the blade. Mule tries to bash it with the butt of the gun hanging around his neck. It ignores the weak blow and takes a bite out of his upper arm.  The last thing Mule sees is the mermaid jerk back from him, the tip of an angel blade, coming out of it’s eye.

 


	45. A Hell of a Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary decides to retrieve her son.

“Where’s Sam?” Mary demands as the Marine’s come out the secret entrance. Openable only from the inside.

“Who?” Ange frowns.

“Sarge?’ Clarke reminds her. “He and Matemilola are trapped in the computer room. Once this is sent to Ash we’re going back in to get them out. Don’t worry, we won’t leave your baby boy behind.” He winks at her.

“You go, I’ll go get them.” Mary catches the tunnel door before it closes, and starts inside. She stops and there’s several deafening cracks like thunder and a familiar sounding roar she can’t quite place. All of it is coming from her right.

“Someone destroyed the dam.” Several angels appear. “We’re taking everyone back to the compound.”

“The fuck you are. I’m going after my son.” Mary points her blade at the angel’s throat as one comes near her.

“I’ll keep her safe.” Michael gently pulls her blade away. A flash of water pushes her out of the tunnel completely, until Michael closes the door.

“We’re sure as hell not leav…”The marines are taken before they can even finish objecting.

“I can’t go in with you.” Michael cautions Mary. “They warded the entire place against archangels. I’ll have to try and stop the flooding and repair the dam. You need to enter from the top. Your son has equipment with him to breath under water with and many refills of what he’s breathing. He’ll likely be heading back towards the way they came in.” Michael turns and holds up his arms, the massive wall of water coming to a screetching halt across the large canyon. Mary follows closely behind Michael as he pushes the invisible walll backwards until they reach the main building. The angels have made sure their hunters were safe and went back to rescue anyone left inside.

Water spills out of the compound as Michael walks past, and starts to drain. Mary keeps pace with the angel until she reaches the side of the rocky incline closest to the walls of the compound, where the Marine’s went in.

It only takes Mary fifteen minutes to rock climb to the nearest walkway, free of guards, of course. The windows are already broken, or at least the walls are, with not a few chunks of the dam wall inside them. There was nothing on or in that dam.  No sigils, runes, spells, bombs, nothing. There must have been something though. A notice to someone to destroy it somehow on a breach. Maybe fallen angels?

The service ladder is still in place, though barely but it’s climbable. So she climbs up until she’s near enough to jump to a completely busted window on the fifth floor. The elevator of course is not working, but that’s what they went in to get to a maintenance tunnel on the other side of the shaft. She manages to open it wnought to fit in between and push straightening out her arms then sitting to push with her legs. The elevator is stopped all the way at the bottom, where she can see the prone forms of her son and the other marine, along with two dead dehydrating mermaids.

The elevator shaft is free of anti angel wards, though there’s one on the very top, most likely for archangels. As she knows there’s nothing she can do for either of them if there’s anything that can be done at all, she heads up the maintenance ladder and reaches out to slice through the ceiling, breaking through the lines of the ward. Immediately a scraggly old man appears on the elevator roof beside her son. As Mary slides down the ladder, he holds Mule to him. Almost as an afterthought he reaches over to the other marine and taps what’s left of his forehead, restoring the marine’s savaged face and clearly broken leg. Mary lands hard on the top of the elevator, taking a moment to make sure she hasn’t broken something.

The other Marine, Matemilola draws a startled breath and reaches up to his face. Mary takes out her blade and warily approaches the strange angel until she sees a familiar tear fall on the elevator roof.

“The places they hold their victims automatically lock down and seal off in case of emergency so they can move them.” Helel says, not looking over at Mary as she puts her blade away. “My angels and your hunters have already rescued the majority of those who were left. I’ll take you two back to the stable.” In a moment Mary is in her son’s room with Helel and Mule. Matemilola was sent back to the rest of the team.

“How long has he been dead?” Mary asks as Helel tenderly sets the body down on the bed.

“No more than half an hour. Matemilola was dead for less. Exsanguination for both of them. He was easily resurrected. Azrael won’t be happy of course, but I don’t particularly care. It’s what Mule would have wanted me to do.” Helel just looks at the chunks bitten out of Mule’s right wrist and bicep. He’d insisted Mule take his own blade. In the end it didn’t help at all. But it’s not as if Mule had trained in underwater sword fighting. It’s amazing that they were able to land killing blows with it at all. “You were right. We shouldn’t have let him do this.”

“We’ll get him back, Helel.” Mary holds the angel’s head to her chest, resting her cheek on the top of his head. “I don’t intend to leave him there.”

“I’m sorry. I should have done more. I should have at least found a way to protect him better.”

“It’ll be alright. I promise.” Mary gives him a kiss on the head. “Just promise me when he comes back, you’ll take care of him.”

“With everything I have.” Helel promises. “I’ll prepare his body for his return, and see about compiling a rescue team. The members of his team in heaven are more than willing to retrieve him, as are his men here. I have… an ace in the hole that I can use, if I have to…”Helel almost hesitates as he mentions his ace in the hole.

“Helel Ben Sahar, you listen to me. If you put any of those men or their souls in harms way and lose any of them to hell, then Sam would never forgive you. It doesn’t matter how willing they were, it would be more than he’d be able to handle. It was hard enough on him when he lost his team in the first place. To lose any more marines in any way is something he’d never get over. So don’t do anything until I come back. We’ll figure something else out.” She promises and pats his back. “I have to go take care of something. It’ll be okay.”

Mary doesn’t wait for a reply, she just walks out of the room. Her son’s team is waiting in the hallway, gathered around the door.

“Is Sergeant Winchester alright?” One of the nameless ones breaks the silence.

“No. He’s dead, but just until I get his soul back. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.” She informs them. They’re not exactly relieved at the news.

“We’re going with you.” Clarke stands tall. “That’s not a request.” Mary just looks him in the eyes. “Ma’am.” is added a bit less firmly.

“We’ll discuss it after I talk to Michael and take care of a few things. But first, I’d like to know what happened.” She demands. They all look to Matemilola who takes a breath and tells them up to when they forced open one of the elevator doors to the shaft they were found in. “And…” Mary prods gently.

“As your son was trying to pry open the elevator doors at the floor we entered, we were surprised by those mermaids. I… I didn’t even know there were fresh water mermaids.” He explains thought the look of shame on his face doesn’t wear off. “Sergeant Winchester killed the first one with one blow, before it could even attack, or perhaps as it was attacking. I am not sure, the other was eating my face. It was so strong. But the other mermaid cried out a piercing shriek like a whale song, and it left me and went after him. It caught his hand and bit his wrist. He dropped the blade and I caught it. I don’t know how I managed, but I pierced it’s head where the neck and spine met, but it was too late. He had already lost so much blood from the bite of the rougarou and there was so little coming from his body… I just could not go on any further. I had no strength left in me.

“We shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t...”Ange just quickly walks away.

“Thank you for telling me. You did very well.  I would have been surprised by mermaids in fresh water as well. Especially so far inland. If it’s any comfort, you didn’t outlive him, you were just the one Helel was able to bring back. You know my son would have wanted you to live. Excuse me. I have things I need to do.” When she gets back to her room, Michael, no, Dean is waiting for her. “Hey, Dean Bean.” She smiles at him, loving the sight of her living, unharmed, protected son. He just comes over and hugs her tightly.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks her softly.

“Yeah, honey, I’m fine.” She closes her eyes. “It’s different this time. There are angels, some of which loves him dearly and we can get his soul back and bring him back. He’s probably not going to be alright and I want him to come home. I know, oh honey, I know that this is asking a lot from you, but please, please try to forgive him and love him and take care of your little brother, alright?” Mary puts a hand to his cheek. “I know he has Helel now, but he can’t be with him all the time and he’s going to need help. I won’t always be here for him either.” Mary just holds her oldest son, waiting for a response. He doesn’t give one.

“It’s alright. It’s too much, I understand. I really do. You’ve always been the bright spot of my life. You took care of me as much as I took care of you. That wasn’t fair to you either and I’m sorry, but I have never been more grateful for anything, than I have been for you.” She  gently moves his head down so she can kiss his forehead. “As for Sam you’ve already been more than a brother should have to be. I need to take a shower and gather my thoughts. Why don’t you let Michael go comfort his brother for a moment. Helel’s really upset.”

“Alright. I’ll do my best to take care of Sam, at least as much as he lets me.” Dean kisses her cheek. “Michael wants to speak to you.” He lets go of his mother. “Wait a minute. Michael wants to talk to you.” He lets go of his mother and steps back a little. His posture and expression shifts slightly, a little stiffer, a little more formal, a little more uncomfortable.

“Hello, Michael. Are you alright? Is the dam okay? It didn’t take too much out of you, did it?” Mary asks.

“Yes. It’s fully repaired and fortified. I’m a little tired, but I’m definitely well enough to go see Helel. Are you sure you’re alright?” He turns the question back to her.

“I’m sure. I’m just feeling a little tired as well. It’s been a rough day.”Mary goes to open her door.

“Thousands of people have been rescued today and we now have vital information on the rest of the organization. With the help of your hunters and Heinrickson, we should be able to take out the the Barachiel’s completely. I look forwards to working with you again. Maybe the next time, we can fight side by side.”

“Yeah, it’s been fun.” Mary smiles. “It’s been a long time since I had a real partner. It’s been nice having someone experienced around that I don’t have to keep from being killed.” She lightly punches his shoulder.”Now go comfort your brother.”

“I’ll see you later, but if you need to talk, I’ll be there.” Michael puts a hand on her shoulder, and heads off towards Mule’s room.  “Thank you for indulging me, Dean.”

“No, problem. When you need to borrow my mother, just let me know. I don’t mind sharing. You seem like you could use a good mother.” Dean teases him a little. Michael refrains from comment. “But really, thank you for watching out for her on her hunts. I tend to worry. She’s not at her prime and one of these days its...something’s going to happen no matter how good or how lucky she’s been. But with you there, I know she’ll be okay. And I already know about the smoking. It’s just one of those things. She pretends she doesn’t smoke at all, and I pretend I don’t know that she does. It’s fine. Don’t mention it to her, alright?”

“I won’t. You seem more concerned about your mother than you are upset at your brother’s death.” Michael changes the subject.

“I know it seems callous, but I just… I’m done. I don’t have it in me to let it break my heart over him and his shit again. Besides, they’ll be getting him back soon.” Dean brushes the question off a bit too casually. Michael remains pointedly silent at this. “Look, I know he’s just… just broken. I know that. But that doesn’t mean I have to let him just keep hurting me over and over again. I love my little brother, I do. I want him to be well, to do well. But I’m not sacrificing any more of myself to for this. I have a family, a job, you. I have enough on my plate as it is.”

“So you just lied to your mother?” Michael asks him more than a little cooly, which if Dean knew anything about the angel at all, would terrify him.

“What? No. I’ll do my best to do what she wants, but I’m not going to kill myself for him. I’m not his father. I’m not Mom. He doesn’t even want me as a brother. I’ll do what he’ll let me do for him but he’s made it more than clear he doesn’t want my help or advice or my company or anything to do with me in general. That’s fine with me. I’ll do what he lets me do. What Mom tells me to do, but my best has never been good enough. Not with him.”

“I understand your frustration.” Michael calms down a little. “Your brother may be broken, but it was my sister who broke him. I don’t exactly have the right to give advice on being an older sibling and not giving up on your younger one. I reached the point you’re at a very long time ago with Gabrielle. But your brother can be fixed, become better. Gabrielle can and will only get worse and worse.”

Michael stops as he opens the door to Mule’s room and sees the scene before him. There are lilies everywhere, including the queen sized bed surrounding Mule. All of the lilies are bordered with yellow roses. Mule’s body is fully repaired and ready to take in his soul at any moment. It’s also dressed in a purple silk shorts and robe set.

“What the actual fuck…” Dean comments.

“Lilies are for death. But yellow roses….” Michael frowns.

“Friendship. Not that it makes it any less, um…” Dean feels a little creeped out by this but he really doesn’t want to offend Michael by insulting his brother in any way. “I’m sorry, but doesn’t this feel a little weird to you?”

“No.” Michael says simply. “This is fairly standard Helel. Actually it’s surprisingly toned down for him.” Michael admires, the simplicity of it.

“Seriously?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Helel tends to be a little dramatic at times. I understand what he’s doing. Sam is in hell after all. When he comes back Helel wants him in a pleasant soothing comfortable environment.” Dean’s silent for a few minutes. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Dean says. “He doesn’t deserve hell.”

“I know.” Michael agrees. “No one worthy to be my brothers vessel could ever deserve hell.”

“Hell’s not what you think it is.” Another angel appears on the opposite side of Mule’s bed. “It’s not the flames and torment. It’s more like a pleasure palace filled with the worst people you can imagine who use the weaker terrible people for their pleasures when they can’t find someone willing. Or when part of the thrill is that the person in unwilling. If you’re strong, like Samuel, you can often do as you like unless one of us angels decide otherwise. But given who he is, he should be able to hold his own even then. Especially given these.” The angel reaches down to Mule’s hand touching his last remaining tattoos on his knuckles that give his punch enough impact to damage an angel. “Hopefully…” The angel stops, not saying that hopefully Gabrielle won’t take an interest in him, but she clearly already has. “Hopefully they’re ingrained into his very soul.”

“And what was your pleasure in hell, that you forced others to endure.” Michael asks the once fallen angel, his hand aching for his blade. But he refrains from acting on his anger at this one fallen angel. After all he had promised Helel to respect his prior judgement.

“Poetry, I guess. When I helped Raphael heal the damaged souls and angels, I read 

them my own attempts.”

“That evil bastard.” Dean jokes, making Michael’s mouth twitch slightly.

“I’m not very good at it, given the things they said to me.  The rest, the drugs, the debauchery, the decadence, really only affected me. It’s possible I fathered a nephilim. I’ll never know. What I wanted I never got and what I did get wasn’t worth what I gave up.” he keeps looking down at Mule.

“You should have thought of that before you abandoned us. If it weren’t for Helel, I would kill you where you stand. How dare you come here at this time and speak to me as if we were on anything close to good terms.” Michael glares at the angel he once thought he knew.

“I’m here to offer my services in retrieving the soul of Helels’ vessel. Many of my other once fallen brothers are willing to go as well. Our lives are a gift from our father, delivered to us but Helel Ben Sahar after we had earned only death. Don’t risk the lives of our innocent, loyal brothers for this. We know hell. We know our brothers and if we die, we’ll still be grateful for the extra time we were given, and the redemption we don’t deserve.” It’s for Helel, of course. Of all angels that adore him. those he’s forgiven would die for him without question or hesitation. He tends to have that effect on people

“I can’t disagree with you.” Michael takes a moment. “We’ll discuss this with Helel when he returns from wherever he went. Are you one of those he uses to help save those in need of salvation?” Michael crosses his arms so as to not look as if he’s softening his opinion on fallen angels, forgiven or otherwise.

“Yes, sir.”

“How many have you helped save so far?”

“Not enough to make amends for those I may have led astray.”

“Go back to your fellow fallen and tell them I hold no objection to this and leave the final decision on these matters to Helel. Do not enter this room again.” Michael commands. The angel bows slightly and disappears. “I don’t understand these angels. They fall and then come back to become better angels than they were before. It doesn’t make sense. If they had this in them, then how did they fall in the first place.”

“Well, I can’t say how they fell, but you can be glad at least that when they fell, they bounced.” Much to Dean’s surprised, Michael actually laughs at this. “I want to see Mom’s face when she sees this set up. Especially the purple lingerie.”

“Lingerie? It looks like fairly simple lounge wear to me. Much less ornate, and far more modest with short pants instead of a short skirt, but I don’t see anything inappropriate about this. I doubt Mary will either.”

“Well, let’s just say things have changed. I…” Dean stops as they hear the sound of a gunshot piercing through the walls. Without pause, he races towards his mother’s room. 

 


	46. Hell is Other People

Mule opens his eyes. He looks up at the white gauzy veil on the ceiling above him, handing down like a canopy. The smell of lowers, the feel of silk, plush pillows, comforters, a soft mattress. He thought he’d died. He could feel himself dying. His blood leaving his body. It felt oddly peaceful. Just like now. Maybe they got to him in time and this is just Helel being overdramatic. This certainly can’t be hell. He gives a sigh and closes his eyes, just enjoying the sensations before he has to get up and get on with his life. 

There’s a familiar kiss on his lips. Ange again. What the hell, though. Maybe she’s not just fooling around. She can’t possibly actually love him, but that doesn’t mean she’s not actually interested in something substantial. But maybe it’s worth giving her a chance.

“Funny isn’t it? I’ve actually missed you.  A little.” The voice sends a chill down his spine. Mule opens his eyes to see honeyed eyes and curls. “Welcome home, Samuel.” She mocks him. Mule pushes her away, only succeeding in pushing himself back, half sliding back up against the headboard. 

“W-what?” He can’t quite speak.

“Do you like the room? It’s the honeymoon suite. Obviously we’re not married yet. We could be. I don’t have a problem with bigamy. I mean, I don’t actually love you, but I do kind of like you. Not, like, the druggy desperately addicted you, but the you when I came from Iraq, in physical therapy, only slightly addicted to pain killers.” She smiles, sitting on his legs. “A little bit. I liked that Samuel. Not that it wasn’t so fun destroying you, but you know. That wasn’t personal.” Bree shrugs. “Any who, how about it? Care to start over? Play with me, make love to me, enjoy yourself without limit or consequence, protected, cherished, enraptured.” She runs her hands up his thighs. “Don’t worry about Raph. He lets me do what I want.” Bree gives him a wink and draws her hands back down.

“Why?” Mule tenses.

“Because he can’t stop me without physical violence and he loves me with a perfect love, a love to save all of existence and he would never raise a hand to me.” She sounds strangely bitter at this. “Not the way you loved me. The way you loved me was… sweet and pure, yet selfish and passionate. You loved me just for being who I was. That or the florence nightingale effect and now look at you, all handsome again, with all your tattoo’s.” She puts a hand on the marine tattoo on his shoulder. “I’d always wanted to see those flowers on your back. I’m surprised Helel got rid of them. If course he is vain and wouldn’t want people to be distracted from the natural beauty of his vessel.”

“No, I mean. Why are you doing this? Why are you.. Why are you offering this to me?” Mule ignores her slight to Helel, storing it away for much later. He doesn’t like how weak he sounds when he asks. It feels like the shards of his broken heart are on display, with the ones that Helel had helped patch back together being tugged on as well. He expected torture and torment, not the offer of love and affection. Or the illusion of it. 

“Well, honestly, I guess as Raph will call me out if I don’t.. Um, mostly because it’ll really piss off your mother. And let’s be honest, you know you didn’t make your life choices based on what your mother wanted or approved of. Will you really make your afterlife decisions based on that?” Bree gives him a rather patronizing shake of the head, and reaches out to stroke his cheek.

“I think I have better reasons than not wanting to piss off my mother to tell you to go fuck yourself.” Mule glares at him. She just rises on her knees and gives him another kiss sending a pleasant soothing warmth through him.

“I don’t need to hurt you, Samuel. I don’t need to ruin you ro break you or hurt you now. Not for any reason. We don’t have to tell her. She’ll never really know for sure what happened to you down here. We both know you’ll be sent back to Helel eventually. Your mother’s not going to live forever you see, and we made a deal, your mother and I. You and heaven get your soul back. When Mary dies. There’s no reason your time here has to be torture. We could have fun again, At least for a little while. Besides, if you’re playing with me, none of my little siblings get to play with you. Is that really such a big price to pay for safety and freedom from torment while you’re here?” She looks at him with such a soft and gentle expression. It makes his heart ache, but it’s fairly clear that when she’s looking at him, she’s seeing someone else.

The kiss she just gave him wasn’t meant for him either. It was sweet and almost chaste. It was also filled with more love and affection than he ever got from her before. Not that he knew that until just now.She wasn’t only pretending to love him, she was pretending to give him only the smallest crumbs of it.

“What makes you think that this would be anything less than torture? Or do you really know. You broke my heart Bree. And you want me to let you break it again over and over again?” Mule tries to push her away. She lets him this time, at least a little.

“Oh, please…” She rolls her eyes. “ Like there’s even a possibility that any part of you could still love me enough for that.” Bree laughs. Mule doesn’t say anything as he’s not really sure how to explain it, or if he should explain it. “Look, we both know that what you felt for me was nothing but lust and dependance just like I intended.” She puts a hand on his cheek. “The dires for drugs and pleasure, anything to keep the pain away, mental or physical. I gave you the pain, then I gave you relief from it. I’d call it stockholm syndrome, but you didn’t realize you’d been kidnapped, or that I was torturing you. So Florence Nightingale effect is close enough. You’re a good man, Samuel, you’d have had to convince yourself it was love and trust, just to live with yourself.”

“That’s not true.” Mule confesses, though he knows she’s the last person he should be confessing this to. “It wasn’t… I fell in love with the person who you showed yourself to be then. I fell in love with the kind, funny, confident, stubborn, loving, gentle, passionate woman  you showed me. I loved the way she sang, and smiled and laughed, and yes, even the way she irritated my mother.” Mule sighs. “I loved the excited fondness in her eyes when she looked at children, when she thought I wasn’t looking. You broke my heart, but you did it by making me fall in love with a woman who didn’t exist.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t !?”  Bree chuckles. “That was fun though. But tell me, is that so much worse than anything else that might happen to you down here? Your mother has killed so many of my angels, that I don’t think there’s an angel left that hasn’t lost someone or something to her. Or even just wants the status of making Mother Mary’s favorite son their plaything.”

“I’m not her favorite son.”

“Eh, I know. But you’re here and they want to believe the one they’d have access to is her favorite.” Bree shrugs. “So, why don’t you think about it for a while? And just to be clear, it will include my fucking the shit of you, but mostly games, movies, stuff like that, food etc.”

“No. I don’t need to think about it. I won’t do it. Not willingly.”

“Oh, well. I’ll still let you think it over. Just not here, then. Have fun or someoe else will have fun with you.” She snaps her fingers and he finds himself in a similar room only there are cuffs and chairs and a hell of a lot of BDSM materials on four corner shelves that reach the top of the canopy. There’s just see through gauze as the walls. There are also hundreds of other occupied ‘rooms’ on each side as far as the eye can see with no actual walls in sight. The green silk robe and shorts feels a lot less comfortable than they did before.

“What’s this?” A small, lovely woman opens the curtain behind him. “A present?”

“No.” Mule walks out the other side.

“Uh, uh, uh.” She appears in front of him and puts a hand on his chest. “Nobody leaves my domain unless I cast them out.”

“Maybe it’s my domain now.” Mule cracks his knuckles. He’s pleased to see his tattoos translated into death.  She just laughs and shakes her head. When Mule punches the angel in the face she stops laughing. In fact she actually summons her blade, 

The fighting is almost ceaseless. Apparently he hasn’t quite made it to the biggest baddest thug in the room yet. As much as he hates to admit it, though, he actually enjoys it. He’s only killed a few fallen angels though. Most of them get the hell out of dodge when they see he has a weapon that can kill them and is still standing. After all, he doesn’t actually have skin to cut into, or organs to pierce or blood to bleed, whatever he looks like is just the self that his soul’s clung to enough to retain it’s shape. When he thinks about it, the injuries go away and he just feels slightly weaker. The grateful touches of the unwilling partners somehow refresh him. The more that gather around him, the stronger he feels as well, though he’s not sure why. 

There are quite a lot of souls following him for protection. Several ones, who’ve proved they can fight, have been given a few of the angel blade’s he’s taken and are holding the perimeter. Fairly well. Mule’s not quite sure how long it’s been or how the spaces between ‘rooms’ got so large, but hell seems to be fairly accommodating. It’s honestly a little boring, though each fallen angel that doesn’t run and decides to fight. Livens things up. In fact, killing them gives him such a rush he feels outright ashamed of it. 

He’s not sure how he’s going to explain it to Helel. After all, he knows how much Helel cares about all of his siblings, even the fallen ones, and would rather win them back one at a time instead of kill them. So he decides to try and remind them that they have options. That they can leave and be forgiven and go home. Even the ones he really wants to kill he reminds them, and gives them the chance to run away from this particular fight. Hopefully that’ll be enough. It’s not as if there are many innocent people down here. In truth, the longer he’s here the less he can pretend that he doesn’t belong.

“Williams?” Mule exclaims as he pulls back a curtain and sees one of the rookies he lost in his first command.

“Winchester?” He looks both surprised and relieved, then mortified. The angel cutting 

him looks back in naked fear, then smiles as it’s not the Winchester he was thinking of. The smile falters the second he sees the blade in Mule’s hand.

“Is this what you left heaven for?” Mule asks calmly, confidently. “Is this how you imagined you would spend your time?”

“Kind of.” The angel looks at him oddly. “Torturing pedophiles is incredibly stress relieving when I’ve had too much of trying to stop it up there. What do you think you’re doing? Rescuing people? Every single person behind you deserves whatever happens to them in here.”

“I’m NOT a pedophile!” Williams turns red at the accusation. “I just turned eighteen and she was a few weeks from seventeen. It was a technicality.”

“They never admit it.” The angel gives him a scornful look. “They don’t care up there, you know. If it doesn’t bring massive glory to the host, nothing gets done. Michael doesn’t care about anyone but Helel, and Helel only cares about himself. The only angel worth following is down here. So would I go home? No.”

“I find it hard to believe every fallen angel is just unsatisfied with the restrictions placed on what they can and cannot do for humanity.”

“Fuck no, most of them are selfish self absorbed bitter assholes. Gabrielle promised us absolute freedom and she delivered. That’s all there is to it.”

“Well, whatever he has or hasn’t done. That man is a marine, and one of my marines. I won’t leave him here to be tortured. No matter what he’s done. So, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine. It’s not as if there aren’t plenty here.”

“Did you know what the Barachiel’s have been doing up there?”

“Yeah. They’re strong. It’s very frustrating.”

“I died invading their compound in North Dakota. We accomplished the mission but there 

were complications for me and Matemilola. I hope he survived. But Michael’s working with my mother and the hunters as well as the FBI to hunt down and take out the Barachiel syndicate. I led my team in to retrieve their files from the central computer. The rest of the team got it out and now the FBI has all the information that didn’t make it into Heaven’s library. Actually Michael’s going to continue to work on taking down the organization while he’s still stuck on earth. He and my mother Mary are working together on it. Did you know that not only are they selling children to pedophiles, they’re sometimes turning them into vampires first so they never grow older?” The angel’s eye twitches a little at this “Sometimes the larger operations are worth focusing on. It’s not that the little individual cases don’t matter, it’s that you can save more in less time. Helel will welcome you back with open arms.”

“Maybe, but will Michael?”

“Michael… hasn’t officially returned yet. Helel is still completely in charge. And Michael is respecting his executive decisions. I wouldn’t wait too long to go back, if you go back.”

“Huh,”

“They care. Helel cares, even if he is a little conceited, arrogant, vain, an imperious pain in the ass at times. You have to remember, they have a lot to do.” Mule can’t help but smile fondly as he says it though. 

“Right.” The angel smiles. “I’ll think about it.” He disappears.

“What the hell?” Williams asks as Mule unchains him from the wall. “I swear to god I’m not…”

“I believe you.”

“I’m here because I made a deal, my soul for my record being completely erased and being taken off the sex offenders registry so I could become a marine.”

“That is stupid but understandable.” Mule sighs. “But I traded mine for heroin, so I’m not in any position to judge. C’mon we’re going to find a corner to turn into a base.”

“Alright, Sam-a-lam-a-ding-dong.” Bree appears before him, making several souls turn pale. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Enjoying myself.” Mule says simply as every soul behind him tries to hide in his shadow.

“Alright, well rescuing souls from torment, trying to convince my siblings to go back to heaven, beating the crap out of them…. Did you actually steal their blades?”

“Yes.” Mule replies.

“And kill some of them?” she sounds a little pissed at this.

“A few. Just the ones who wouldn’t run.” Mule shrugs.

“You and your fucking mother.” She snaps her fingers and the blades as souls vanish except for Williams, who’s staying as close to possible to Mule without actually touching him. “Friend of yours?” Mule doesn’t say anything. “Would you feel more comfortable taking me up on my offer if you brought him with you? I mean, I know you and Aaron…”

“No.” Mule quickly snaps. “But you could release him from hell and I’ll consider it.” Mule looks her in the eye with a confidence he doesn’t feel. 

“Really, Mule? You’d let me play with you to save a pedophile?” Bree smirks at him. “I don’t think they’ll accept him in heaven.  They get especially pissy about that sort of thing.”

“He’s not a pedophile.” Mule doesn’t even hesitate.

“Okay.”

“I’ll tell you what Bree.” Mule looks at her. “If you’ll release every soul heaven can accept, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“Mmm, nah. I hate your mother, sure, but not enough to make it worth that. Jesus. Besides you’re not that much fun.”

“Just the Marine’s that made deals then.” 

“The marines?” Bree looks surprised.

“Oo-rah.”

“Pfffff. How about just little mr short sighted here and I’ll make a safe room for those little followers of yours.”She offers.

“No. Every marine that made a deal.”

“Hmmm, alright. I’ll have Raphael take care of that. I’ll even have him resurrect this fine young man, just as he was.” She crosses her heart. “Agreed?”

“Yes.”  Mule nods his head. Williams doesn’t say or do anything, though he clearly looks uncomfortable.

“Yay! Let’s go play!” Bree hops up to give him a kiss, wrapping her arms and legs around his torso, taking him from the area.

 

“You know.” The nightingale lays beside him on the bed, in her usual spot. “It really wasn’t anything personal, you know. I didn’t have anything against you.” Mule just ignores her, waiting for the next thing. Croquet was kind of fun. He doesn’t like having fun, not here, not with her. “I kind of liked you. A little. I wouldn’t have been friends with you or anything, but we could have coexisted, banged the fuck out of each other every now and then. Maybe some mini golf.” Mini golf was also actually pretty fun. “Oh, but I do love your body, so tall, handsome, easy to delight, not weird or kinky or anything that might scare someone away. It’s one I wouldn’t mind having someone I love inside of.” She gives a fond smile. “So, you’ve finally met Helel. If it weren’t for the whole freeing Michael thing, I’d have introduced you to him sooner. Maybe when you were twenty. Isn’t he wonderful though?” The adoring sigh she gives is a bit disturbing.

“He’s so beautiful.” She continues, “His eyes, his voice, his touch is always so loving and tender. Have you ever felt his wings wrapped protectively around you? Embracing you as if he was taking you in and making you a precious treasured piece of himself. The soothing coolness of his touch. How he just… accepts you and loves you no matter what. I don’t care what anyone says, humanity isn’t our father’s greatest creation; Helel is. Helel Ben Sahar, our shining one, son of the morning. He is so strong, just beautiful in everything he does. A perfect being.”

“No, he isn’t.” Mule says softly. “But that’s what makes him the wonderful being he is.”

“Oh so you love him, too. Of course you love him. No one but Raph could spend so much time with him and not love him. Really, I think he’s just jealous. But Helel is special, you know. He deserves to be happy. He deserves to be free to experience everything wonderful about the world he’s tended to so long. Doesn’t he?” Bree turns over, placing her hand on  Mule’s chest.

Mule can’t bring himself to agree, or at least not out loud. He’s sure this is some sort of trick question. Fortunately she doesn’t really care if he answers or not.

“He’s always just been trapped up in there, you know. Even when father was around. He’d keep Helel with him, sitting at his feet, listening to all that bullshit of his, taking in every word while Dad pretended to listen to his responses. So many jobs and duties and orders to fulfil, heaven and earth, angels and humanity. He never had enough time for everyone. 

“Of course, Michael always made sure he had time for her, I’d say you were lucky only to have one brother but you got a Michael instead of a Helel. Only Helel was ever good enough for Michael, and you’re no Helel.” Bree scoffs and starts running her fingers over his skin in that way she does when she was feeling particularly affectionate. Pretending to be affectionate.  “I wish I could free him from all of that stress and pain, all those unreasonable burdens placed on him. I want him to know how good he could feel inside of you.” Bree whispers in his ear. “He deserve to feel how good you feel right now. I’d give him everything. We could give him everything.” She kisses his chest.

Mule hates how he responds to her touch. He’d fight it, but there’s not really a point. He promised to be her play thing after all. The words she whispers to him hold all the genuine feeling, love and adoration that he’d thought they once held.  He can’t understand a single one. It isn’t until the pleasure ends that he realizes exactly who’s name she’d been moaning.

“We could make him so happy.” She whispers in his ear. “Oh, speak on the devil.” Bree stretches, “I’ll be right back.”

Mule just lies there, incredibly disturbed, both at himself and what the Nightingale seems to be saying. He tries not to think about it but he can’t help it. What the hell does he do about this? Does.. does she intend to try and get him to agree with her and convince Helel to… Fuck that!

“Alright, it’s time to go.” Bree reappears a while later, kneeling beside him and stretches her arms up over her head. 

“Wait, what?”

“A deal is a deal. Mary dies, you go free. Oh, I will have so much fun now she doesn’t have my stupid blade on her. I’ll have to go get it. Finally. Now hold on while I scratch my mark  off you.”

“Wait, what?!” Mule grabs her hands.

“No?” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Having more fun than you’re letting on?”

“No. Why is she in hell? What…”

“We had a deal. She drove a very hard bargain. Of course it means no ressurrections for mary but the only way I could ensure she wasn’t resurrected by someone not inclined to honor our deal, was for her to come here when she dies, of course.”

“Send her back. Or let her be taken or resurrected, don’t…”Mule isn’t sure what to say or why he’s even asking this. She just laughs at him.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Bree shakes her head, “The whole point of that deal was a permanently dead Mary Winchester. I’m not going to torture her forever. Just until I get bored. Then I’ll just toss her soul in the abyss also known as Oblivion. So you know. Relax, you get your life back, you get my brother, you get to live without her driving you crazy and making you feel like shit from her constant disapproval and disappointment. I’m pretty sure she left you the house and her share of the Garage and everything, too, so you’re set. Really this is a win for you, anyway you look at it.” She points out.

“I will never, ever allow Helel back into my body unless my mother is back, alive, well, and heaven bound as she’s meant to be.” Mule sets his jaw. Bree looks at him a moment, considering his words.

“You’re bluffing.” Bree dismisses it. “No one can say no to Helel forever.”

“It’s not like I won’t get to see him again. When he has to be in heaven we just end up

spending time together in my dreams. Besides I’m sure he’ll understand, given what he went through for Michael. I love my mother, Bree. Even when I hate her. Take that as you will.”

“Huh. Fine. But if I do this, your soul’s still mine, only the deal I had with her is off and you’re getting resurrected. When Mary tries to escape, or someone comes to rescue her, I’ll make sure to let them. Who knows, if she tries anything like you did, I may just end up kicking her out myself.” Bree agrees far more quickly than he expected. 

“And you can’t let her know I did this.” He adds. 

“I can do that. I will be telling her in great detail what we were doing, then.”

“I think she’d be more confused than pissed off.” Mule shrugs.

“Yeah, I don’t think she’d expect you to cheat at mini golf.”

“I was not cheating! Those are the rules!”

“Fine, well, you’re going back to that lovely body of yours. So you just work on showing Helel a good time when he’s with you.” Bree winks at him. “Remember he deserves it.”

“That’s never going to happen.” Mule says flatly. “You and Helel are never going to happen. I was the closest you will ever get to that. Because he is not that kind of angel. If you loved him, you’d respect that. If you loved him you’d be trying to pull yourself up to his level, not try and drag him down to yours.” He glares at her, not caring the least how she takes it.

“I don’t care what you do,Bree,” He continues, “It’s not going to work. Because he doesn’t love you that way, he will never love you that way. Frankly he is way to fucking good for you, and you know it. Your husband’s too good for you, too, but he loves you so much he threw away everything else he cared about just for you. Maybe you should show him some goddamn appreciation, and stop chasing hopeless fantasies.”

“You little peice of shit!” She grabs him by the neck, digging her nails in. “You are nothing but a wisp of dust, scattered across space and time in a moment. You worthless, weak, gullible, pathetic little specimen of humanity. All you are to us is a broken toy. Do you understand me?Talking about how he does or doesn’t love me. As if you’d know.  Do you think he even actually cares about you? He only tolerates humanity because our father wants him to. Do you think he cares about anything besides doing his duty and using you as a vessel to do so?

“If you weren’t his vessel, he’d never have even thought it worth speaking to you, much less meeting you. He wouldn’t care a damn thing about anything even related to you. He’s too good for me? What exactly do you think you stand on that scale? Compared to him you are nothing. Less than nothing and always fucking will be!”

“So?” Mule states calmly in a way that just infuriates her. She looks like she’s going to rip him to pieces. Her wings unfurl from nothing. Six bright beautiful golden wings all agitated and fluffy, as disheveled as her curls. The dark arms of her husband reach through them and lift her off of Mule, clothing them both at the same time.

“St. Lucifer can’t return to his vessel if it’s soul is destroyed.” He reminds her. “Go calm down, I’ll return shortly.” He reminds her. “Go calm down, I’ll return shortly.” He brings out his mossy green wings and folds them around her and hers, hiding her within them.

“Where’s Mary?” Bree sniffs.

“I put her in the waiting room. But go compose yourself first. You don’t want to deal with her while upset. Not in front of everyone. Your audience will run away.”

“Alright. Get him out of here.” Mule can see her feet go up on tiptoe for a minute, then vanish.

“I really didn’t want to have to deal with this today.” Raphael gives an exhausted sigh. “But at least it means giving her a lot of attention for a very long time. During which she won’t be paying attention to your mother.”

“I’m sorry to inconvenience you.” Mule says awkwardly getting out of the bed. 

“Don’t be. She’s been due for something like this for a while. Hopefully she’ll let me help her now instead of waiting until she’s unbearable and we’ll have a few calmer decades. Come, I’ll take you back and make your mother’s body resurrectable on my way home.” 

“Thank you.” Mule says quietly. “How did she die? Was it in the..”

“No.” Raphael says firmly and takes him back.

  
  
  
  



	47. Love and Sacrifice

Helel waits patiently on the dark side of the moon. Bree usually never keeps him waiting like this. She’s probably afraid to face him right about now. Maybe she thinks he’ll be mad at her. He should be, part of him is, but mostly he just really hurts. He can’t hate her, he cant give up on her, and he still loves her. But what she’s done to his vessel is not okay in the slightest.  She’s generally just doing her best to survive. Everything she’s done and will do is his fault anyway. How can he really be angry at her for the consequences of his ultimate failure.

“Are you mad at me?” He hears her little voice as she appears far enough away to be 

able to flee with ease. As if he’d ever really hurt her. Though shoving her away from Mary was as close as he’s ever come to it.

“No.” His soft voice conveys nothing but the tired sadness he feels inside. She doesn’t like that any better, but at least she knows he’s still approachable.

“I didn’t have anything to do with his death. You know that right?” She inches forwards.

“I do know that.” Helel gives a weak smile. “And I know you made a deal with him and one with Mary. But will you… could you please give him back to me?” Gabrielle just stands there, silently squirming, her arms behind her back as she twists her toe in the dust.

“You know I can’t. Mary will kill me if I let him go. His soul is the only reason she hasn’t tried to hunt me down and kill me.”

“No, it isn’t.” Helel gently admonishes her.

“She’s not that reasonable. She’s the type who’d set the house on fire to kill a black widow nest and worry about the damage to the house later. And she’ll killing our little brothers and sisters, may I remind you. The big brother I know would not be okay with that.” She accuses him.

“Humanity has a right to protect itself. Hunters are that protection. When ever anything or anyone torments or kills humans,  those things run the risk of being hunted and killed for it. Even un, Gabrielle. You can give them the freedom to do what they want, but you can’t give them freedom from the consequences of their actions. I don’t like it. It hurts to hear them dying, but they made their choices and took their chances. Just like humans do every day.” The soft slightly patronizing lecture makes his little sister scowl at him.

“Why does it even matter if we hurt of kill a few humans?” She rolls her eyes with a huff. “There are so many of them. There are more of them than there are of us. We could each kill a human a day and we still wouldn’t run out of them. I mean, look at the world. There’s almost too many of them. They’re worried about how many of them there are. Honestly, it’d kinder to weed them out then let them starve or have to resort to cannibalism just to survive. Why do you ever care? They’re not even slightly in danger of extinction or anything!” Bree throws up her hands and plops down on the surface in front of her brother. “Besides I do get rid of a lot of assholes. You have to admit that.”

“Yes, I admit that you tend to veer from chaotic evil to chaotic neutral every now and then, but do think I’ve forgotten about all those plagues, wars, famines, and storms you’ve created? Or at least helped along, back when there wasn’t nearly so many humans.” Helel reminds her as she opens her mouth to protest. “I’m glad you’re satisfied with less victims at one time, but that doesn’t make any of what you and your angels are doing to them, right or good in any way.”

“Well, what did you expect? You took my husband away. He’s the only one who can make anything better. But no, Michael wanted him back so to hell with me and what I need, right? At the very least I should keep Samuel from you as long as you kept Raphael from me. And treat him just as kindly.” She glares at him.

“I’m sorry, Gabrielle. I thought… I thought if he wasn’t there to help you, you’d finally let me take that painful burden from you. Yes, Michael missed him, but it wasn’t just her I was thinking of. You know, that I could take away all of that pain, if only you’d just let me.” Helel reaches out for her arm, placing his hand just above her wrist. Gabriel just pulls her arm back, and holds it against her chest, hiding the mark.

“You know, you could just resurrect your vessels body without his soul and make a deal with it or something. You don’t really need his soul. Or you could put someone else’s inside who’d say yes. It doesn’t matter.” She ignores his offer and gives a dismissive shrug.

“It does matter. I need my Mule, Bree.” Helel pleads. “Not just his body. He’s my friend, my refuge, my partner, and a shoulder to cry on. He’s someone I can tell anything and everything to. Samuel is precious to me. I like him. I enjoy his company. I need him in my life. I just feel so empty without him.” Helel begs her, though she seems to stiffen at his words.

“You say you don’t want to give me the mark, because you don’t want me to hurt the way you do. But you’ll let me hurt now by keeping Mule away from me?” Helel continues. “I understand your position, Bree. I really do. And I can’t give you a reason, good or otherwise to do this for me. I can’t say you’ll be better off for it, because I don’t know. Though I do know, I would never let anyone hurt you. All I can do is ask that you give him back to me, because you love me, and he’s important to me.” Helel looks at her with the rather sad brown eyes of his decrepit vessel.

“Why are you wearing this disgusting thing?” Bree looks away from him. “You didn’t even bother to fix him up. It’s not like you.”

“There are more important things that my vessel’s appearance. He was the first adult vessel I could find.” Helel shrugs as if the act that his appearing anywhere for any length of time, looking like… that, isn’t something anyone thought he’d ever do, no matter what for. Or who for.

“ I see.” She says cooly. “Well, I suppose if he’s that important to you… all you have to do to get him back is kill Mary and make sure she’s never resurrected, which means either bringing her soul to me or tossing her into the empty.” Bree says carelessly. “After all, if you loved me, you wouldn’t let people who can and intend to kill me, walk around so freely. Especially not with the weapon that could actually do it.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that.” Helel tone is almost frightening.

“You’re angry with me.” Bree’s scowl fades into a pathetic pout. Suddenly she breaks out into a smile. “Alright, you don’t have to do anything. Give me a minute and your Mule will be returned to you, safe and sound.” She dashes forwards to give Helel a kiss on the cheek.

“He wasn’t… you didn’t… he wasn’t hurt in any way, was he?” Helel asks cautiously.

“Oh, no. Actually he had a great time. I swear I treated him with all the love and kindness I’d give to you if you ever decided to leave heaven and come to me. Seeing how he’s so important to you after all. He wasn’t exactly appreciative, but I guess he wouldn’t be.” She wraps her arms around his neck, resting her cheek against his. “I love you, Helel.” She whispers.

“I love you, too, Gabrielle.” He holds her closely to her, giving the love and comfort she probably needs right now. 

“Won’t you come down and be with me?” Bree pleads, tightening her grip on him. “You don’t need to stay in heaven. Dad’s not there. Michael’s back and she can take care of everything, so you don’t need to stay there. You can come and have fun and do anything you’ve ever wanted to do but couldn’t. I could show you things so wonderful you could never even imagine.  You just work so hard all the time. You only deserve good things…”

“Or… you could come home.” Helel suggests softly. “Everything will be forgiven. I know it will be hard, but I’ll be there for you. So will Raphael because yes, I would accept him back as well if that’s what you need to be happy. Could you imagine the four of us together again.” he strokes her hair.

“Yeah,” She snorts, straightening up. “That would be nice if heaven wasn’t a stifling, boring, repressed pit of disapproval containing the sibling who would murder me if it wasn’t for this mark you want me to pass over to you. Fuck all of that. Besides I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m not sorry for anything. Have fun playing with your little human.” Bree scowls and takes off.

  
  


Michael stands in the doorway, just staring at Mary and the pieces of shattered skull and brain matter on the headboard behind her. He’s doing everything he can to push back dean’s soul at least far enough back so he can’t see this. It would be easier to just look away, but for some reason, Michael can’t. He doesn’t understand. Why would she do this to herself? How would this help anything? This… this is giving up.

She didn’t seem like she was giving up. She didn’t seem as if she thought things were hopeless or was in the depths of despair. She was calm, determined, confident that she would be saving her son, soon. It’s impossible to think that she’d kill herself but it’s also impossible that she was killed by someone else. There are no signs of anyone else in the room, natural or supernatural.  It just doesn’t make sense.

“Michael!” Dean pushes forwards as much as he can. “I can handle this. I’m a sheriff, I”ve seen my fair share of blood and gore.”

“Not when it’s your mother.” Michael turns away, closing the door behind him. “She… she somehow made the back of her head explode using that gun she carries.” Dean doesn’t say anything, “It doesn’t make sense.”

“She wouldn’t just…. She wouldn’t abandon Sam like this. She wouldn’t leave him  in Hell. Let me… let me investigate. She wouldn’t…” Dean insists.

“There’s no evidence of anyone else in the room. If there was the scent of the gun would have trailed into the hallway. The only angel that had been in that room was me and no other supernatural creatures were as well. As for humans one of the hunters was in there and on the bed at some point but not to kill her.”

“What.. Jesus Christ. I don’t need to hear things like that!”

“I thought you said you could handle these things.”

“My mom’s death, yes. Knowing about her sex life, or that she still has a sex life? No.” Dean replies. “And how do you know that hunter didn’t end up killing her in a jealous rage?”

“Because that hunter died in the assault.” Michael informs him.

“Oh, I guess that’s as good an alibi as any.” Dean admits. “Let’s look at those letters on the door.” Dean asks, drawing Michael’s attention to the envelopes taped onto the door that the angel had ignored in his haste to be the first one there, and the brief pause to send everyone else who came running back for the time being before opening the door. He knew she was dead as soon as he arrived. “She left one for each of us.” Dean sounds a little surprised but not very. He knew his mother got along very well with the archangel, not surprising because they seem to be a lot alike. He’s glad it wasn’t a two tigers meeting on a hill type of thing. Michael takes his from the door, and stares at it, debating wether to open it or put it in his pocket for later and let Dean read his first.

“You should read yours first.” He informs his vessel, going to put his away.

“No, go ahead. I’ll try not to pay attention.” Michael offers gallantly.

“That’s not necessary, I can’t imagine she’d have anything too personal to say to me

that you don’t know already, or I wouldn’t end up telling you.” Dean confesses. It’s kind of funny. Sure he has people to confide in, his best friend, his wife, but he can’t talk to them about everything, like the troubles with his wife and the real situation with his brother and mother. Or what’s going on right now. He’ll absolutely be calling Jo as soon as he can and let her know about the situation. But sometimes he just needs more than one perspective on things. Michael has a fairly unique and valuable perspective that he appreciates very much. 

“Like wise. I would never keep any of your mother’s last words from you.” Michael opens the envelope.

‘ Michael, I’m sorry if I startled you with this. If you haven’t entered the room already, I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t want Dean to have to see this. I know he’s seen his fair share of gore as sheriff. But it’s different when it’s a loved one. I know that from experience. But I have to do it this way to guarantee instant death. I know if there’s even the slightest spark of life left in me when you get here, neither of you would let me die.

You see, I’ve already made a deal for Sam’s soul several months ago. I wouldn’t hunt or try to kill the nightingale and in exchange she would release my son’s soul when I died. If I died first, she’d keep him in Hell with her until I did, then I’d take his place. That and she would leave my sons and their loved ones alone as long as they’re alive. It was the best I could get.

It’s the only way to do it without risking so many other lives, angel or human. I was thinking of retiring anyways. Please take care of Dean and his family as best you can. Don’t worry about me. I intend to make life very difficult for the evil bitch. She’ll regret letting me into hell, I promise you that. It’s be wonderful getting to know you. Hopefully, someday we’ll meet again.

Fondest wishes,

              Mary’

“Well at least suicide makes sense now.” Dean says cooly. “But if she thinks we’re just going to leave her there, she’s got another thing coming.”

“Agreed.” Michael resists the urge to crumple the infuriating letter and just puts it in his pocket. That she actually expects Gabrielle to keep her word is a level of idiocy he didn’t think her capable of.

I don’t really care what she has to say to me, right now.” Dean says as Michael takes down the other envelope.

“It looks as if she has a lot to say.” The angel comments on the thick envelope.

“I don’t want to hear it. Just… put it away for now. Let me up front so I can keep the scene clear and answer questions. I have experience with that. Can your angels at least.. Put her body back together?I’d rather not just… leave her like that.”

“Of cou…” Michael stops short and bursts back into the room. Raphael was just here. He could sense him. Mary’s body is restored, bit still dead. The room is more than properly cleaned as well. Every surface and object is like new. He’s not quite sure what it means. Even the slightest sliver of hope for his little brother, breaks Michael’s heart in two all over again. There are a few of Raphael’s feathers on the floor. The angel is stressed at the very least. But Mary’s not alive. This is nothing more than a kindness and a sort of apology for Gabrielle’s actions.

 Michael sits down on the side of the bed, overwhelmed by the pain and longing for his fallen brother, for Mary, for the Helel he knew who did as he was supposed to and deferred to Michael’s judgement. Everything is just so different every where. Even humanity is different, their tools, their lodgings, their food. He can’t even recognize most of them. And that thing they call an eggplant looks nothing like an eggplant. It all just feels so overwhelming.

“Michael?” Dean gently calls to him.

“Just give me a moment.” Michael leans back against the door.

“ I’ve got this, okay? You just rest for a while. I’m going to take care of things for now.” Dean carefully moves up front and takes out his phone. He’d better call Ellen and Bobby, see if they have any police or caution tape. And here comes the soldiers. Wonderful, now he’s going to have to explain all this.

 

Mule can smell flowers again, a slightly stiffer bed is underneath him, but the pillows are ridiculously soft and fluffy. His clothing feels exactly the same as when he woke up in hell. Feeling doubtful and incredibly creeped out, he opens his eyes and sits up. It’s his room at The Stable which is filled with an excessive amount of lilies and yellow roses, but the way it’s arranged is incredibly beautiful. This time instead of his ex kissing him , though just as confusing, an old wrinkled weathered man hugs him as if Mule’s his long lost son. For a moment, he’s not sure he’s actually alive. 

“She really gave you back to me.” The man doesn’t let go.

“H-Helel?” Mule blinks. “What.. who on earth are you wearing?”

“The first vessel I could find. Fortunately he’s old and very tired of living.” Helel explains, still not letting go.

“It’s just not your usual style that’s all.” Mule finally returns the embrace. “Are you okay?” 

“No I’m not okay! I almost lost my only friend for a very long time to possible torment or corruption for who knows how long. Don’t you dare do this again do you understand me? You are not going out in the field like that again, where I can’t get to you if you’re in trouble. Understood?” Helel orders. Mule refrains from comment. “Please…” The way Helel says it, so soft and distressed, Mule melts a little.

“Alright.” He agrees. “I’m not going to stop hunting in general, though. I do have a life beyond being your vessel. But I’ll let you know where I’m going and make sure it’s someplace you can reach if I need you. Alright?”

“That’s probably the best I’ll get from you, so alright.” Helel finally breaks away. “Are you alright? Were you hurt?” Helel puts a hand to Mule’s cheek.

“It… I don’t really want to talk about it. But… you… I… Gabrielle loves you, that much is clear. I just don’t think she loves you … in an appropriate way. I mean… maybe she was just screwing with me. I don’t know. I can’t really think of anything she could have done that would have creeped me out more.” Mule covers his eyes. “She’s pretty twisted and a little cruel, but she didn’t… hurt me. How did mom, die? During the mission?”

“What do you mean? I went to her and asked her to give you back to me. She said she would, eventually. She… she didn’t say why she changed her mind last minute. “ Helel gives a sigh. “I’ll go check on your mother in heaven.”

“She’s not in heaven.” Mule says quietly, looking away.

“What? That wasn’t…” Helel stops himself in case Michael or Dean hears.

“I think she made a few changed on the proposed deal.” Mule crosses his arms.

“You knew about this?!” He looks over to the door to see Dean standing there. “You knew that she made this deal for you and you let her do it?”

“I…”

“She killed herself for you! For the damned soul you traded for a shot or heroin! Are you happy now? Your stupid selfish idiocy has sent our mother to hell!”

“She what?” Mule’s genuinely surprised face just pissed his brother off even more.

“What did you think she’d do, Sam? Just live the rest of her life as usual, leaving you in hell for Decades!?”

“Well, yeah, actually. I mean, if it was you, sure, but…” Mule rubs the back of his neck. “She’d never leave you and the twins like that, even for me. Are you sure she killed herself?”

“Yes, we’re sure. What the fuck’s wrong with you!? She’s our mother, she’d die for either of us. She loves you and always will no matter how badly you fucked up all our lives.”

Before Mule realizes what his angel’s doing, Helel stands up and slaps Dean across the

Face, definitely leaving what will be a hand shaped bruise. 

“Don’t you ever talk to him like that again. Why are you acting like it was his decision?  As if he wasn’t guided, pushed, manipulated, tortured and tormented into every step of the way? You think you could have withstood everything he had weighing down on him? He’s not the first to break under the kind of strain he was put under. And do you know why he was targeted so viciously? Because your mother pissed Gabrielle off.”  Helel resists the urge to just knock him out and send him home, or something else.

“Don’t you dare try and excuse that angel’s actions!” Michael pushes forwards, of course. “ You always make excuses for her and now you’re trying to put Mary at fault for defending herself and her unborn child? You have gone too far.”

“Really? Then how can you blame Samuel for falling victim to Gabrielle’s manipulations? Or for his mother’s own decisions and actions? Why for once is it not Gabrielle’s fault? You always blamed her for everything all the time. You accused her of everything even the things that were impossible for her to do. You never allowed for mistakes, good intentions, or even a simple error in judgement. Even when she successfully taught the late flier to fly, it wasn’t good enough. You had to criticize her method more harshly than you praised her success.”

“She threw him down into the ocean! Hoping it would motivate him enough to fly. She 

went to throw him into the abyss! And finally she put an innocent fledgeling in danger! The only reason he survived was because of your reckless behavior saving him. You could have been caught by leviathan or been drawn into the empty! I was right to be angry with her for how she went about it, and you know it!”

“She was trying to help him, Michael.”

“She was BORED!” Much to Mule’s surprise, several vases of flowers near the door 

burst into flames. Quickly Helel puts his arms around Michael’s neck, extinguishing the flames before they can spread.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t fight. We’re both so upset. This isn’t the time to talk about this. It’s not. We’ll calm down and go get Mary and everything will be alright. We may disagree on things but I don’t intend to let her have her way with this.” Helel’s gentle soothing voice help’s calm Michael down.

“You’re right. He doesn’t bear the blame for Mary’s actions. But do not lay your hands on 

my vessel again. I don’t care what he says to yours.” Michael scolds him.

“Understood.” Helel kisses his older siblings cheek. “I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have struck you. I think we’re all a little too emotional right now. Let’s take a moment to relax and get ourselves together and we’ll figure out how to retrieve her.” Helel suggests, breaking away. “You go get some rest while I take care of my vessel and return this one home. Since I’ve only used him for a few hours, I might be able to repair the damage.” Helel presses his cheek against Michael’s and disappears.

Michael doesn’t bother to wait around for Helel’s return.   
  



	48. Mother and Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm sorry it took me so long to finish it.

“What are we doing?” Dean asks as Michael uses his patchy wings to slow their descent to hell. 

“We’re getting your mother back.” Michael replies.

“That’s nice, but I thought you couldn’t enter hell.”

“I can’t. But that doesn’t mean I can’t cause a lot of damage and inconvenience from the outside. Hopefully it won’t cause any trouble for the reapers, which means dealing with Azrael. I’m not in the mood for her right now.” Michael lands a little heavily at the entry way and walks up to the front gates. “What in the name of all that is….” He stares at the flashing lights surrounding the doors. There’s a giant screen of lights on top of it, displaying ‘Welcome to Hell, open 24/7 365, absolute freedom guaranteed. No Michael’s allowed.’ in several languages that flash to other languages after a few minutes. 

“It’s obnoxious, that’s what it is.”Dean makes a face. “So what are you going to do? Knock and ask them politely to bring out Mom?”

“No.” Michael takes a breath and releases an explosion of flames that blows out all the lights and singes the walls as far as the eye can see. The ground beneath them has melted into molten rock. Thousands of tortured screams of pure agony echo in the air.

“That, uh…” Dean’s not quite sure what to say.

“I only meant to destroy the lights. I don’t have as much control as I’d like to right now.” Michael confesses. “It should get her attention at least.”

“What the Fuck!” Bree appears on top of the wall in the space between it and the now broken sign. She crosses her arms and rests them on top of the wall, looking down at them. “Oh, It’s you.” Though Dean can tell she’s probably shitting bricks right now. “No Michael’s allowed. Can’t you read?” Michael just looks back at her with a steadfast and unwavering glare.

“What does she do with the hellbound souls named Michael? Make them change their names?” Dean asks wryly. Michael’s mouth twitches a little.

“Yeah, actually.” Bree grins. “And they have to go in the waiting room until they do. I will accept Mike, Mikey, Mickey, Misha or Mack, even the ‘I want to be unique’ thing like ‘Cael’. You know like Topher for christopher. Michelle’s fine too. If it’s a version that’s actually pronounced right, they get some extra persuasion to change it. And yes, I can hear you when you’re talking to Michael. You might as well just give up on the jokes. She doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

“Think if I start calling you Mike, she’ll let you in?” Dean jokes. Michael works very hard not to laugh even a little bit.

“Please stop.” He says quietly, and works to compose himself. “You know why I’m here, Gabrielle.” The Nightingale gets a dark look on her face.

“No. I don’t care what you do, how much you damage or destroy from out here. YOU CAN’T HAVE HIM!” The look in her eyes is downright terrifying. “Don’t think I won’t kill you if you even try. You’re weak. Even I could probably take you as you are right now.” Michael just holds out his arm and motions her forwards.

“IF I had my blade.”  She backtracks a little. “But I don’t, so fuck off! Raphael’s MINE and I will never let you hurt him! I’ll unleash the darkness before I let you even close enough to touch him!”

“I’m not here for Raphael.” Michael corrects her. Though he’s not bothered by the threat at all. She could never sacrifice herself to protect anyone. Not anymore, not even Raphael. She may think she means it, but it’s been a long time since she’s truly loved anyone or anything but herself. “He made his choice. He’l have to live with it. Besides being your husband is a worse punishment than anything I could think of.” The Nightingale bristles at this, her cheeks turning a little red. “I’m here for Mary Winchester, and I’m not leaving until you give her to me.”

“Oh.” Bree calms down a little. “Mmmm. no. I’m still playing with her, wait your turn.” She 

disappears from on top of the wall. 

“So why is it you can’t get in again?” Dean asks him.

“The walls are warded against me to keep me out.  Helel as well.”Michael explains.

“So… do you think you could ward those same walls to keep her in? You’d probably have to keep Raphael in as well, or he’d probably come out and free her.” Dean points out.

“Maybe, if I had more precision.”

“I have precisions. Just get me some spray paint and tell me what to draw.”

“You know how to make wards?” Michael asks, a little surprised. He had thought Dean had a relatively normal average existence.

“Are you kidding? Mom made us practice drawing wards and sigils and stuff so much 

when we were younger, we can both freehand a perfect circle.” Dean scoffs.

“No. You’d have to be up front for that and that would make you too vulnerable. Its also not quick enough. Maybe I should just let loose completely and see how much damage I can really do.” Michael muses.

“Or you could just start telling embarrassing stories about when she was a little angel.” Dean suggests. Michael doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to think about that time anymore than Gabrielle would. He might end up crying. “Or you could stand at the gate and offer the condemned souls coming the option of being sent to oblivion instead of hell. Or you could let the angels inside know that if they decide to return to heaven you’ll accept Helel’s decision to take back the repentant ones.”

“That might be a good idea. Though I won’t exactly be welcoming them with open arms. I’ve learned my lesson about that.” Michael considers. Though in truth, he’s angry with those who left. In the case of angels like Ariel and possibly Castiel, he can’t help but feel a little sympathy. He’s made horrible mistakes for love and often felt chafed at the restrictions placed on what he could and couldn’t do to aid humanity. If only there were enough of them to help those hurting, and not just in crisis. If only there were enough to search out for those in need and not just limit themselves to large missions and those who actively cry out for help.

The pain and frustration and despair, the anger he felt in the cage, the things he yelled to his father, pleading, begging, anger. Some of what he said might have gotten him killed if he were human. Honestly he wanted death at those times, which is half why he said them. But death never came. So many times he fought against his confinement, until he was reduced to the state he was in when the finally got out, unable to function and respond, all awareness fading into darkness. Always, he’d wake again, a tattered mess. Will he ever be abel to forget his time there? Will it ever stop tearing at his heart and mind. 

“Michael…” Dean brings him back to his surroundings, the area around him is on fire, flickering blue flames liking the air around and over their head. The outer walls of Hell are also on fire. 

“My apologies.” Michael snuffs it out.

“Jesus Christ! Fine! Take her! Just GO HOME!” They hear Gabrielle yelling from inside. “Cassie! Bring Mary to them and get them the hell out of here! NOW!”

The fallen angel leads Mary’s soul out of the gates, she’s carrying an angel blade, which makes Michael grin.

“Just one?” He teases.

“Nah, about ten. I left nine others with some Michaels.” She shrugs. “I haven’t been here very long. I’m sorry if I upset you two.” She puts her hand to their arm. “I’m alright, though. I was just starting to make an army of Michaels to take over Hell, or at least kill all the Fallen. I realize there are several thousand of them, but it’s not like I didn’t have the time.”

“Did you really think we would have just left you here?” Michael asks her softly, a little hurt.

“I’d hoped so. Given what I’d told Dean in my letter, I’d hoped you’d wait a little at least until I found the other hunters that made deals and could drag them out with me, but I guess you didn’t.” Mary sighs and rubs the back of her neck. Dean doesn’t say anything.

“Take us to any crossroads with street signs in…. Idaho.” Michael instructs Castiel who does, and leaves before Michael can try and convince him to come back again. A mention to Helel, and not only are they returned to the motel but Mary is instantly resurrected. Michael urges Dean forwards so he can grab hold of her in a crushing hug. Helel stands back in the corner, as Mule just hides in the back of his mind.

“I made sure you’d be fine, honey.” Mary starts speaking before Dean can say a word. “You and your family. Besides, it’s hell. The best place in the world to hunt for the Fallen. I’d have been tossed out eventually I’m sure, or escaped. Have a little faith in me, Dean.”

“Have you ever considered.”Dean just tightens his grip on her, “That maybe, just maybe, you’re being a little overconfident in your abilities.”

“Probably, but you odn’t go very far doubting yourself. Ah, Dean Bean. You have a wife, children and now you have an angel on top of that.  You don’t need me anymore.” Mary puts her hands to his cheek. “I’m not going to life forever and I’ll be damned if I have to go through another one of my sons deaths again. I’m supposed to die first. I’m your mother. That’s how it should be.”

“Mom, just because I’m not longer completely dependant on you doesn’t mean I don’t need you. It definitely doesn’t mean my children don’t need their grandmother. I don’t care if it’s me or Sam, you’re not doing either of us any favors if you trade your life or soul for ours, Mom.” Dean insists.

“Michael and I will take care of your children, Mrs. Winchester.” Helel says soothingly. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for them. We can do things you can’t if you’ll just be patient. And I’ve already talked to Sam and he’s agreed not to put himself in that position again, where I can’t get to him.”

“You’ve done fairly well by him, Helel.” Mary admits. “I appreciate your efforts, even the unsuccessful ones. You’re both asking a lot of me with this.” Mary tightens her lips and looks over at the angel in her youngest’s body.

“I know.” Helel smiles “But they’re as precious to us as they are to you.”

“I wouldn’t be quite that presumptuous but I will take care of Dean as much as I can and you as well, as much as you both let me.” Michael comes forwards, giving her a light squeeze before letting go and backing up a step or two. “We’ll obviously have our duties in heaven to attend to, but we will make sure someone is always watching over them and available to come to their aid at any moment, and yours if you’ll allow it.”

“Thank you. I…” Mary pauses as there’s a knock on the door. Michael opens it to find a vase with a bouquet of orange lilies with a black ribbon running through the corner of a card, tied to the neck of the vase. Addressed to Mary of course. There’s no sign of an enchantment, curse or otherwise dangerous things about it. So Michael picks it up and brings it in.

“That’s from Gabrielle.” Helel says as soon as Michael brings it in.

“How can you tell?” Michael frowns at his brother, still holding the vase.

“The orange lilies. In the current language of flowers they mean hatred. But there’s nothing dangerous about it.” Helel confirms Michael’s assumption. Mary tugs the card off the ribbon and opens it.

‘Resurrecting you violated our deal, so I’m keeping my claim on little Sammy’s soul. Remember that, and remember that if you kill me, there won’t be anyone to protect him the next time he’s in hell.

Your former almost daughter in law

P.S. Fuck you.’

Mary reads out loud.” That little mother fucking peice of shit!”

“Did you honestly expect her to keep her word?” Michael raises an eyebrow at the huntress.

“Not exactly.” Mary covers her face with her hands. “Sam, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, mom.” Helel half shoves Sam forwards. “It’s not. You can’t save me from the consequences of my own mistakes. You have to let it go.”

“No, I don’t I’m your mother.” She snaps.

“Yes, you do. Because I’m not a child anymore, mom. I’m a grown man who makes my own decisions and reaps the consequences, good or bad. You’re not supposed to bail me out of everything.”

“Looking forwards to going back?” Mary says cooly. 

“Can I talk to mom alone?” Mule looks over to Michael/ Dean who nods nad leaves the room. “Yes, Helel you can stay.” Mule sighs.

“The nightingale said you two had a wonderful time together.” Mary says a little stiffly.

“I… yes and no. It was painful. But She… I think she was trying to.. She loves Helel. I was a substitute, I think. Practice. I don’t want to talk about it. But at least I’m finally completely over her now. I don’t want to go back. But as long as she’s in love with Helel it won’t be as bad for me as it could be….. No, I mean ‘in love’..... Yes, well, she’s Raphael’s little sister, too and that didn’t stop them from fooling around, did it?...... Maybe, fine. But it makes me nervous and more than a little creeped out.” Mule squirms, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Please come back home, Sam.” Mary takes his hand.

“No,mom. It;s better I’m out of your lives. If only better for me. I can’t live with the weight of all my mistakes being pressed down on my all the time. Dean, he’ll never forgive me and never let up on me. Never. I can’t take anything back. I can’t undo anything or change what I’ve done and quite frankly I’m not sorry. I did what I had to. I took the only options he left me. Anyway, if I want any chance of redemption for my sins, I can’t do it in Lawrence.” Sam takes his hand back, and turns slightly away.

“I understand.” Mary says. “I do. My mother’s death was caused by my bad decisions. I caught the nightingale’s attention because of those bad decisions. Even if it worked out for the greater good, I have to live with that. Everything she did to you, she did because of me. This mess isn’t your fault, it’s mine.”

“I think, maybe, mom, that the blame for someone doing terrible things lies primarily on the one who actually does them. Not the person defending herself and others. All you’ve ever tried to do is good, mom.” Mule rubs the back of his neck. “I… I didn’t and I… I’m not your fault, Mom.”

“Your my baby.” Mary reaches out to his arm.

“I’m not, mom.”

“Yes, you are and you always will be. Till the end of time and even past that. I’m always your mother and you’re always my son and nothing, nothing will ever change that, so stop acting like you’re all alone. Stop thinking that I’m not always going to be there for you as much as humanly possible. I love you and want to protect you and help you as much as I can. I can’t just turn that off because I might get hurt.

“I turned a blind eye once with you and you ended up losing your soul. I knew you were taking opioids for the pain, not as prescribed and sometimes not legal ones. I’m not an idiot. But I’ve been there. I’ve been on hunts that left me in so much pain, that pills were the only things that kept me going at all. From day to day, I used pills when I needed to stay awake. Pills when I was in desperate need of sleep, pills to stop the pain. Some times drugs to just relax and rest my tired mind and body. 

“If your brother had ever searched my room he’d have found more than he ever would have in yours. I don’t know why I was able to handle myself with them and you weren’t. Your father couldn’t handle himself with alcohol, it may be related to that, I’m not sure. In the end, he was drinking so much. I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true.” Mary takes a breath. “But your habit was more complicated than mine. And I didn’t see that. Maybe I didn’t want to see it because then I’d have to look harder at my own use. So, I let it go and you lost your soul. I could have talked to you, and saved you, and I didn’t. I don’t use any of them now. After Helel saved me after War, I’ve felt better than I have in a while. I feel like a dented old care with a brand new engine.”

“Oh, mom.” Mule sighs, turning to embrace her. “It doesn’t matter now. It really was my 

decision. And have I ever listened to you? Or just done what you wanted me to do regardless of what I wanted? No, I’m not Dean. I’m a stubborn ornery brat. No comments needed Helel. But I need to go my own way.” Mary just heaves a sigh and lets go.

“Okay.” She rubs her eye. “Okay.. “ There’s a long awkward silence. “Jo and I aren’t going to be hunting partners anymore.” Mary announces.

“Oh? Is one or both of you going completely domestic?” Mule asks curiously.

“I don’t know. She’s a hunter. I’m a hunter. And if she wants to go off and hunt, I’ve promised to stay and take care of the twins. I don’t like the idea of her going alone though. There aren’t many hunters I’d trust to keep her safe when I can’t. From what I’ve heard, from other hunters, and your record, you’re an excellent hunter. It would mean a lot to me if you come home so you could go on hunts with her. You know, make sure she comes back to her family.”

Mule gives a chuckle at this obvious last hope manipulation. But he thinks about it for a minute.

“Call me when she wants to go hunting again. Until then, I’m definitely staying here. But if she does go back to hunting, it may be more convenient to stay with you so Jo and I could coordinate easier. We’ll just have to play it by ear.” Mule rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah.” Mary smiles and brushes her hand over the hair on the side of his head. “We’ll pay it by ear.” She kisses his cheek. “I’d better get out there and take care of things. You should go let that little demolitions girl  know you’re alive again. Maybe take her out to dinner to make up for the distress you caused her. She was pretty upset.”

“Mom….”

“I’m just saying.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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